CIHM 
Microfiche 
Series 
(IMonographs) 


ICiVIH 

Collection  de 
microfiches 
(monographles) 


Canadian  Inttituta  for  Historical  Microroproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  da  microraproductions  historiquat 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes  /  Notes  techniques  et  bibllographlques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best  original 
copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this  copy  which 
may  be  bibliographicaliy  unique,  which  may  alter  any  of 
the  irnages  in  the  reproduction,  or  which  may 
significantly  change  the  usual  method  of  filming  are 
checked  below. 


el 

D 
D 


n 

D 
D 

n 


D 


n 


Coioursd  covere  / 
Couverture  de  couleur 

Covers  damaged  / 
Couverture  endommagte 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
Couverture  restaurde  et/ou  pelliculte 

Cover  title  missing  /  Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  maps  /  Cartes  g^raphiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  init  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)  I 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations  / 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material  / 
Reiid  avec  d'autres  documents 

Only  edition  available  / 
Seule  Mition  disponibie 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion  along 
interior  margin  /  La  reiiure  sen^  peut  causer  de 
i'ombre  ou  de  la  distorsion  le  long  de  la  marge 
intdrieure. 

Bianl(  leaves  added  during  restorations  may  appear 
within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these  have  been 
omitted  from  filming  /  Use  peut  que  certaines  pages 
blanches  ajoutdes  lors  d'une  restauration 
apparaissent  dans  ie  texte,  mais,  iorsque  cela  6tait 
possible,  ces  pages  n'ont  pas  6t6  filmdes. 

Additional  comments  / 
Commentaires  suppidmentaires: 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire  qu'il  lui  a 
6t6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details  de  cet  exem- 
plaire qui  sont  peut-Atre  uniques  du  point  de  vue  bibli- 
ographique.  qui  peuvent  modifier  une  image  reproduite. 
ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une  modification  dans  la  m«tho- 
de  normate  de  fllmage  sont  indiqute  ci-dessous. 

I     I  Coloured  pages/ Pages  de  couleur 

I I  Pages  damaged/ Pages  endommagtes 


D 


Pages  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
Pages  restaurtes  et/ou  peliicui^es 


r~-K  Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed  / 
Ull  Pages  dteolortes,  tachet^es  ou  piqutes 

I     I  Pages  detached/ Pages  d6tach«es 

f^  Showthrough/ Transparence 

I     I  Quality  of  print  varies  / 


D 
D 


D 


Quality  inhale  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplementary  material  / 
Comprend  du  materiel  suppi^mentaire 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata  slips, 
tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to  ensure  the  best 
possible  image  /  Les  pages  totalement  ou 
partieliement  obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une 
pelure,  etc.,  ont  6t6  fiimtes  k  nouveau  de  fa^on  k 
obtenir  la  meiileure  image  possible. 

Opposing  pages  with  varying  colouration  or 
discolourations  are  filmed  twice  to  ensure  the  best 
possible  image  /  Les  pages  s'opposant  ayant  des 
colorations  variables  ou  des  decolorations  sont 
filmdes  deux  fois  afin  d'obtenir  la  meiileure  image 
possible. 


This  It 
Cadm 

lOx 

■in  la 
Bumwi 

ninwd  at  Mm  raduetion  ratio  dMckMl  b«low  / 

«  aat  film*  au  taux  da  rMuetkm  incNquA  ci-daaaoua. 

14x                          18x 

22x 

26x 

90x 

J 

12x 

ItR 

HOoi 

24x 

28x 

32x 

Th«  copy  fUm«d  ham  hat  bMn  raproduMd  ttiankt 
to  th«  9«n«re«ity  of: 

Hatlonal  Library  of  Canada 


L'aaompiairo  fHm4  fut  roproduH  grico  *  la 
g4n4roaii*  da: 

Blbllothiquo  natlonala  du  Canada 


Tba  imagaa  appoaring  hara  ara  tha  baat  quality 
poaalbia  eonaidaring  tha  condition  and  lafliblUty 
of  tho  original  eopy  and  in  kaaptaig  with  tha 
fHmine  aontraat  apaciflcationa. 


Laa  imagaa  auivantaa  ont  At*  raproduitas  avac  la 
plua  grand  aoin.  eompta  tanu  da  la  condition  at 
do  lo  nottatO  da  raaamplaira  filmi.  at  an 
eonformit*  avac  laa  conditiona  du  contrat  da 
fUmaga. 


Original  coploo  in  printod  popor  covora  ara  fNmod 
beginning  with  tho  front  covor  ond  ending  on 
tho  laat  paga  with  a  printad  or  ilhiatratad  improa- 
aion.  or  tho  bock  covor  whon  appropriata.  All 
othor  original  copioa  aro  filmed  beginning  on  tho 
f  irat  pogo  with  a  printad  or  illuatratad  Impree- 
aion.  and  ending  on  the  loot  pogo  with  a  printad 
or  IHuatratad  impreeeion. 


Lea  aaomplairae  originaun  dont  la  couvertura  an 
pepler  eet  imprimOe  com  filmOa  en  eommen$ant 
par  lo  premier  plat  at  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
darniiro  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'improaaion  ou  d'iiluatration,  soit  par  la  Mcond 
plat,  salon  la  caa.  Toua  lea  autres  axemplairas 
originaux  sent  filmda  an  commandant  par  la 
premiere  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
dimpreaaion  ou  d'iiluatration  at  en  terminant  par 
la  damiiro  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 


The  laat  recorded  frame  on  eoch  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  — »•  (mooning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  appliea. 

Mapa.  platea.  eharta.  etc..  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  retioa.  Thoaa  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  expoaura  ara  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hend  comer,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bonom.  as  many  frames  aa 
required.  The  following  diagrama  illuatrata  the 
method: 


Un  dee  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
demiOre  imege  do  cheque  microfiche,  salon  la 
cas:  le  symbde  — «»•  signifie  "A  SUIVRE".  le 
symbole  ▼  signifie  "FIN". 

Los  cartaa.  planchea.  tableaux,  etc..  peuvent  ttro 
filmia  k  dee  Uux  da  reduction  diffironts. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  itra 
reproduit  en  un  soul  clichO.  il  est  film*  i  psrtir 
do  Tangle  supOrieur  gauche,  do  gauche  i  droita, 
at  da  haut  en  bas.  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'Imegea  nOcessaire.  Las  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  le  mOthode. 


1  2  3 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

MicaocorY  msowtion  tbt  chart 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  Ho.  7} 


1*0    *^ 

1^ 

^    13.6 

U    Mm 

Ik 

tarn 
|2^ 

it»S 

1^ 

1.4 

HI.6 

^    /APPLIED  IIVMGE    In^ 

1653  East  Main  Street 

RochMtar,  N««  York        U609       USA 

(716)  482  -  0300  -  Photw 

(716)  288- 5989 -Fo> 


VA. 


■u^  I '  S?-5  ^ 


1^  •> 


'  ay 


6»e    NECKLACE 
of    PANDURA 


By 
REQINALO  QOURLAY 


BROADWAY  PUBLISHING  CO* 
835  BROADWAY,  NEW  YORK 


AiiiMHiittik^ttaiiBI 


warn 


Oiof 

I 'Or- 


^ 


Copyright  1907 

BY 

RBGINAI^D     GOURI^AY 

^11  rights  reser  fd 


•APRBS." 


Ob,  loved  and  loit,  can  the  paning  yean 
Bring  aught  that  will  e'er  atone 

For  loaa  of  the  love,  past  doubts  and  fears. 
That  once  was  ours  alone  ? 


I«ost  through  the  malice  of  slandrous  foes, 
Lost,— while  beloved  and  lovely  still,— 

No  grief  of  all  Earth's  myriad  woes 
Can  strike  my  heart  so  deep  and  chill. 


With  thee  is  lost  the  light  of  life. 
That  led  to  hope,  to  peace,— to  God 

Through  Earth's  wild  field  of  wolfish  strife. 
While  by  me  thy  light  footstep  trod. 


mm 


THE  NECKLACE  OF  PANDURA; 

OR, 

THE   CORD,   THE    POISON,   AND   THE 

SHADOW. 

"A  strange  but  beautiful  ornament  this,"  said 
I  to  my  uncle,  the  old  East  India  Colonel. 

"It  is  indeed  a  very  strange  ornament,"  re- 
turned he  dryly,  as  he  replaced  it  in  the  small 
steel  coffer  from  which  I  had  lifted  it— "and  has 
stranger  attributes — and  uncanny  ones  I" 

"This  same  ornament— if  the  tale  I  heard  of 
it  when  it  came  into  my  hands  from  my  uncle, 
an  old  East  Indian  soldier  like  myself — be  true — 
and  I  have  reason  to  believe  it  is" — he  added 
gravely,  closing  the  coffer,  "is  no  present  for  a 
bride!" 

We  had  been  choosing  from  among  his  splen- 
did and  unique  collection  of  Eastern  gems,  a 
suitable  wedding  present  for  my  promised  bride, 
beautiful  Mary  Trevor,  when  I  thus  first  beheld 
the  accursed  thing,  which — but  for  the  warning 
I  was  soon  to  receive  about  its  dangers — might, 
I  firmly  believe,  have  wrecked  the  happiness  of 
my  life. 

"Why,  what  on  earth  can  you  mean?"  ex- 
claimed I,  taking  the  ornament  again  from  the 
box,  and  holding  it  up  to  the  light.    "It  is  mag- 


iiNfli 


•  The  Necklace  of  Panduia. 

nificent  enough  for  a  princess*  wedding  preMnt 
and  would  tempt  any  woman." 
,  It  was  indeed  a  curious  and  beautiful  piece  of 
jewelry.    It  waa  a  necklace  of  exquisite  Indian 
goldsmith  s  work,  with  a  pendant  of  a  single  im- 
mense blazing  ruby  of  great  beauty  and  value. 
Below  this  were  three  pearls— all  large,  and  of 
the  finest  quality.    The  outer  ones  were  the  ordi- 
nary white  pearls,  though  peculiarly  fine  speci- 
"?"•  J"«  centre  one  was  a  splendid  black  pearl, 
which    iterally  glowed  with  a  peculiar  translu- 
cf  .t  splendor,  though  its  beauty  and  value  were 
somewhat  spoiled  to  the  eves  of  a  connoisseur  by 
the  fact  that  there  was  an  inscription  on  it  in  some 
unknown  Oriental  characters. 

"Do  you  know  what  that  means?"  said  my 
uncle  abruptiy,  pointing  to  the  mysterious  letters 
on  the  gem. 

"Not  I,"  I  replied,  scrutinizing  the  queer  char- 
acters closely;  '^t's  an  unknown  script  to  me.  Or- 
dinary Hindustanee.  and  mighty  litUe  of  that, 
fills  up  my  stock  of  knowledge  of  East  Indian 
languages." 

"WeU,  these  are  Punjanbee  characters,"  said 
he,  and  this  is  a  necklace  sacred  to  the  great  and 
terrible  goddess  Kalee-.or  Kali-godde«  of  pes- 
tilence, bloodshed,  and  murder,  and  patronesfof 
the  horrible  order  of  Thuggee,'  whose  votaries 
strangled  thousands  of  victims  with  the  'sacred 
cord  m  honor  of  the  goddess.  This  order  has 
only  just  been  suppressed  by  the  British  govern- 
ment m  India-if  it  has  been  quite  suppressed. 
HT  iT  *  necklace  was  given  to  my  uncle  by  a 
Mahratta  pnncess,  before  the  Mutiny,  who  had 


^Ei^,... : 


The  Necklace  op  Panduka.  $ 

been  his  mist  :ss,  and  who,  it  would  seem  from 
his  ule — gave  it  to  him  not  altogether  with  a 
beneficent  motive. 

"Her  ancestors  obtained  it — ^stole  it,  that  i»— 
from  the  statue  of  the  goddess  i.i  her  great  tem- 
ple in  Benares  long  ago. 

"It  was  supposed  to  the  owner  of  it,  if  a  man, 
and  if  it  was  not  worn  by  a  wcMnan. 

"Now  you  may  call  me  superstitious,  Harry 
Gialoner,  my  uncle,  Colonel  Chaloncr,  went  on, 
pulling  the  while  his  great  white  moustac'ie,  "but 
when  I've  read  you  the  inscription  on  that  thing, 
and  y  u've  heard  my  uncle's  story  about  it,  youll 
understand  at  least  why  I'm  going  to  choose 
some  other  wedding  present  for  Mary." 

"What  is  the  infernal  inscription  in  plain  Eng- 
lish?" I  interrupted,  for  I  was  very  curious  now. 
Who  wouldn't  be? 

"This  is  it,"  answered  Colonel  Chaloner.  "Just 
as  my  uncle  translated  it  to  me.  How  he  got  its 
meaning  I  don't  know,  but  he  had  some  reason — 
as  you  shall  hear — to  think  it  wasn't  put  there  on 
the  pearl  for  nothing.  It  means  hterally  this: 
'The  Cord,  the  Poison,  and  the  Shadow  to  her 
that  wears  me.' " 

"You  observe  that  it  sa)rs  'to  her  that  wears 
me. 

"By  Jove!"  said  I,  getting  up  with  my  hanr ' 
in  my  pockets,  half  derisive,  half  impressed,  for 
I  had  lived  some  time  in  India  myself — "a  gen- 
uine bit  of  Indian  'Black  Magic,*  and  a  genuine 
necklace  of  the  great  goddess  Kali!  She  would 
have  no  women  among  her  tetrible  votaries,  I  re- 
member; that  is,  among  the   actual   stranglers. 


4  The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 

though  lots  of  women  were  employed  to  entice 
and  cajole  the  intended  victim,  knd  even  t?  o^ 
cupy  his  attention  till  the  cord  was  actually  round 
his  neck.  That  perhaps  is  the  cause  of  this  pret- 
ty strongly  worded  prohibition  against  a  woman 
wearing  the  sacred  jewel.  Butf  uncle,  do  y^ 
seriously  believe  here  in  sensible  prosaic  England 
far  away  from  the  superstitious  mystic  East,  that 
there's  anything  unlucky  or  dangerous  about  a 

woman  swearing  this  fine  necklace?    Whv  it's  a 
woman's  ornament !"  ''        * 

"Yes,  that's  just  where  the  trap  came  in  I"  sairl 

S>:f ll'^T.'- """'  i'"J  *^"  y°"  mTZ.^'l  sto^y 
about  the  thmg,  and  then  tell  me  what  you  think 

^°tn17-?r'  '  ^°"  ^8^i^e  it  in  his  own  words  as 
he  told  It  to  me  but  just  give  you  the  gist  of  it 

^r£T  ^  "i"'^  *'  T^  ^^  t°  ^J^at  I  remember 
r«K  ;  J^^i  remember,  too,  that  his  tale  is  cor- 
roborated by  facts— terrible  facts  I" 

Well,  to  get  to  it.    A  great  many  years  ago 
my  uncle  and  your  great  uncle.  General  ChaloSr 

"It  was  just  before  the  great  Mutiny  of  'q8 

Wt.  k'^?u^°'"^  *'?  ^^^^^'  ^^"^  ahndst  heart- 
broken by  the  mysterious  and  tsrrible  death  of  his 
young  wife,  married  but  a  few  weeks  before  He 
told  me  that  I  was  his  heir  in  any  case,  and  that 
he  might  as  well  give  me  these  things  to'p  "t  away 
at  my  banker's,  for  I  was  at  once  to  join  my  r^? 
iment  in  India  for  the  first  time  as  'a  Griffin'-- 
the  name  we  had  then  for  newly  joined  officers. 

As  for  myself,'  he  said,  'I  have  but  a  few 
days  at  most  to  live !'  ^ 


The  Necklace  of  Pansitsa.  $ 

"Now,  my  uncle  was  then  a  man  under  fifty — 
strong,  bronzed  by  service,  and  with  a  frame  of 
steel.  He  was  deeply  depressed,  it  is  true,  by  hb 
wife's  cruel  and  strange  taking  off,  but  as  far  as 
health  went,  he  looked  less  likely  to  die  suddenly 
than  I  do  at  this  moment. 

"I  said  as  much,  thinking  he  was  distracted  by 
his  grief.  Then  he  opened  this  coffer,  drew  out 
this  necklet,  and  read  me  the  inscription  on  it, 
and  told  me  what  reason  he  had  to  know  that  the 
threat  and  warning  on  the  devilish  thing  were 
terribly  backed  by  some  devilish  power. 

"You  don't  find  old  army  officers,  or  old  resi- 
dents in  India,  from  the  Viceroy  or  the  Comman- 
der-in-Chief down,  who  don't  believe  that  there 
are  unseen  principalities  and  powers  in  old  Asia 
that  exist — can  show  their  might,  and  had  better 
not  be  meddled  with  by  sceptical  Europeans ! 

"This  infernal  talisman,"  said  he,  holding  up 
this  very  necklace,  "was  given  me  a  year  ago  as 
a  wedding  present  to  my  young  bride  by  the 
Maharanee  (Princess)  of  Ranapore,  at  whose 
court  in  far  upper  India  close  to  Nepaul  (where 
no  white  man  goes)  and  where  Nana  Sahib  un- 
doubtedly took  refuge  after  the  Muntiy  from 
English  vengeance,  I  had  for  a  long  time  been 
'Resident.'  In  'John  company's'  day  they  fre- 
quently sent  a  military  man  as  'Resident'  to  those 
dangerous  outlying  'Protected  States.'  They 
found  it  worked  better. 

"I  served  her  well,  and  saw  her  daily.  These 
women  of  the  East  either  love  or  hate  strongly, 
and  at  once,  and  in  short,  she  soon  became  my 
mistress.   The  'Ranee  was  a  beautiful,  clever  vol- 


6  The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 

cano  of  a  woman,  like  many  of  those  brillianf  in 
•h!f!;'"^'.'.°"'^''"^^^«^'  refined  savagS  St"; 

™  wi  r,S°'S'-.'°  "*  °"'")-    Her  ove  fo" 
but  afterJl  ?*i?'P**^  ^^^'■y  Pheasant  interview 


The  Necklace  of  Pandura.  7 

quite  alone  in  a  small  luxuriously  furnished  room 
adjoining  her  private  apartments.  We  had  met 
there  before,  and  I  observed  with  some  misgiving 
that  the  great  anti-chambers  were  filled  with 
armed  Pathan  guards.  But  with  the  wonderful 
and  subtle  dissimulation  of  the  high  caste  Orien- 
tal woman,  she  received  me  with  the  sad,  sweet 
melancholy  of  one  who  bows  to  the  inevitable. 

"  'Chaloner  Sahib !'  she  said,  'I  have  loved  you 
much,  and  thought,  being  but  a  foolish  woman, 
to  have  loved  you  long.  But  we  are  even  as 
leaves  blown  before  the  breath  of  the  Gods !' 

"Then  she  drew  forth  this  steel  coflFer  from  her 
robes,  and  opening  it  showed  me  this  fatal  orna- 
ment of  death. 

'  I  only  ask  this/  she  went  on,  'in  memory  of 
the  love  we  dreamed  would  outlast  the  very 
shrines  of  the  Gods!'  (She  poinded  through  the 
lattice  to  the  great  temple  of  Bhrama,  which  shut 
out  the  whole  view  beyond  the, Palace  grounds.) 
'It  is  that  you  will  give  this  necklet  to  the  fair 
Ferenghee  girl  who  is  your  bride  as  a  wedding 
gift  from  the  Maharanee  Pandura  Mahal.  It  is 
beautiful  and  not  unworthy  of  even  so  fair  a  maid 
and  so  brave  and  true  a  lover !'  and  she  laughed 
somewhat  strangely. 

"I  took  it,  for  I  didn't  know  what  else  to  do, 
and  indeed  was  relieved  at  being  let  off  so  ear  IK'. 

"I  passed  out  from  her  presence  with  what 
grace  I  might,  which  was  indeed  but  little,  for  as 
you  nay  imagine,  I  felt  small — despicably  small, 
leaving  her  standing  drawn  up  to  her  full  height, 
looking  steadfastly  after  me  with  that  strange, 


li 


8 


The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 


surprise-for  I  ^  ^!5„  ,  ""'~'i'>><»t  to  my 

™  he.  service.  laid  Ws^ffi^i  rST'™* 

the'S^ecfon^lr^o^asf  "S;;  ^.if'  '""^ 
Ferenghee,  neither  yl„  „  *eL  '^i  {J",*"- 
passed  alive  through  these^o«,?,t  T""  ■"« 
known  how  the  ^M  Steffi,™  ."u  "'  "' 
carry,  punishes  treache?7S  ,  ^  '"'?'  J'™ 
and  her  faithful  S^I^ell  To^«'a'°/"-«=« 

wherel^SrVrfa"""''^   '°   Ca'"«^. 
of  a  week!)  was  awahfj  '  ^"""F  wife-bride 

about  a  foriigjfs  'a  hi;  »irrr^"««  ■ 

arms.  "^^  ""^^  "lore  m  my 

great  piazza  or  verandas  aU  .rn  S"'""""'  ^'^ 
ated  in  the  midst ^£^114"'°"^  ^^  ^^t"" 
It  was  shaded  hyhtavUvf^v^T''^  °^  8^^^^°- 

vantY'  Itf^aS  'S^'lS  ^tr"" - 
da.  «  a  fata,  n,on,en',"ltorrtht  ^'keTSS 


The  Necklace  of  Pandura.  $^  - 

showed  Jeanie  the  wedding  gift  of  the  Maharanee 
Pandura. 

"It  seemed  at  once  to  have  a  strange  fascina- 
tion for  her — so  much  so  that  she  insisted  on 
clasping  it  round  her  neck  at  once.  Of  course,  I 
had  told  her  nothing  of  the  ominous  words  of  the 
'Ranee  when  she  gave  it  to  me,  and  indeed  had 
already  quite  persuaded  myself  that  they  were 
the  mere  meaningless  threats  of  a  piqued  woman. 

"We  were  then  sitting  together  on  the  broad 
veranda  which  surrounded  the  bungalow.  Be- 
fore us  the  great  masses  of  banked  foliage  of 
bamboo,  of  palm,  pepul,  cassiar,  and  a  hundred 
other  trees  and  shrubs  made  dense  obscure  re- 
cesses of  blackness,  though  laced  here  and  there 
with  silver  streaks  by  the  just  rising  moon,  their 
great  leaves  rattling  in  the  cooling  night  wind 
like  the  slats  of  a  quickly  twirled  window  shutter. 

"As  the  clasp  of  the  necklet  snapped  together 
on  her  white  throat,  a  strange  chill,  without  any, 
discoverable  reason,  ran  thro"gh  my  veins.  It> 
was  like  the  chill  we  feel  when  the  vulgar  say] 
'that  someone  is  walking  over  our  grave';  or! 
when,  as  the  Arabs  say,  'Allah  is  deciding  the 
hour  of  our  death.* 

"But  I  turned  towards  Jeanie,  who  had  sprung 
up,  crying  'Look!  what's  that?'  and  as  I  live,  I 
saw — we  both  saw — a  tall,  black  shadow  like  that 
of  a  veiled  woman,  cross  the  broad  road  just  at 
our  feet  and  fade  into  the  ebony  mas'^es  of  the 
foliage  that  lined  it. 

"I  ran  swiftly  down  the  steps,  Ic  every- 

where about,  called  even.    There  wat      thing  to 
be  seen;  notiiing  to  be  heard  but  the  wmd  pour- 


xo 


The  Necki^ce  of  Pandura. 


I 


mg  tijrough  the  great  leaves  of  the  bamboos  and 

"l  «„  K??'  ^*'"^'^'  <=°"^«  here  I  Quick!' 
back  m  her  ^.  "P  *^'  '*"P^-    My  wife  w«  drawn 

The  wrdarrtln*"  £'";  *»"'»  "-^"t? 

3.UTj^sto5r„e-r«/^?^^ 

your  presence  unsent  for  *"  ^°  ~"^  "*° 

closeJ/'"ff  da?k''!:'2''  n^^'/J-^Ping  me 
pointed  to  the  dZrv.Z^f' J^"""^  iheret.sht 
oh,  what  a  dre;^,7!^^~'°^^"«^  »'  "»«!  And, 
awful  eyes  I'  "^  '^^^'^^  ^"^   ^h^t  awful, 

exdSra^W^-t  do  you  mean,  dear?" 

whispered   wTf^^  ^°- '  ^  ?^  "^°"^^"t«/  «he 
mg  cWU  tCl  fl  T"^"."^^  *^^  «a™e  shiver- 

blackshaTowfeuLri,     ^J"/*    "^^'    «>d    i 

time.    I  sterTed   "  H  *        f  ^-^om  behind  this 

iiflrted,  and  turned  round.    And  there-- 


/ 


The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 


IX 


1 

^ust  m  the  doorway — ^bending  forward  and  look- 
ing intently  at  me,  was  a  tall  dark  femaTe  form, 
robed  from  head  to  foot  in  black,  clinging  gar- 
ments. 

"  'But  this  time  the  veil  was  raised,  and  from' 
beneath  it  two  burning  eyes  glared  on  me  as  T 
sat  frozen  in  my  chair. 

"  'Oh,  Charlie,  those  eyes !  Do  you  remember 
those  of  that  tigress  just  trapped  in  the  jungle 
when  some  natives  were  bringing  her  out  in  a 
rude  cage  ?  Well,  they  were  just  like  hers  I  Only 
more  intelligent — more  demon-like!  And  they 
were  fixed  on  me,  and  the  creature  was  bending 
towards  me  like  that  tigress  about  to  spring  I' 

"  'Then  I  screamed  for  you,  and  you  came — 
and  the  creature  was  gone.  But  I  know  she  is 
lurking  somewhere  in  the  house.  Oh,  Charlie,  I 
am  afraid !    Take  me  away  from  this  place !' 

"I  was  more  than  startled,  as  you  may  suppose, 
by  this  strange  appearance,  and  its  effect  on 
Jeanie,  but  still  clung  to  the  hope — in  fact,  hon- 
estly believed — that  she  had  but  been  frightened 
by  some  crazy  fanatic.  Such  people  are  common 
enough  in  Calcutta. 

"I  rang  for  servants,  had  the  house  lit  up,  and 
spent  some  time  in  reassuring  and  cheering  my 
wife,  at'last  apparently  completely  succeeding  in 
doing  so.  Then  I  removed  the  baleful  ornament 
from  her  neck,  telling  her  carelessly  that  I  must 
put  it  away.  This  I  did,  locking  it  up  in  its  cof- 
fer, and  placing  it  among  my  other  valuables. 

"Then,  telling  her  to  await  me  in  her  boudoir, 
at  the  door  of  which  I  placed  a  trustworthy  ser- 
vant, so  that  she  might  not  feel  nervous  in  my  ab- 


13 


The  Necklace  of  Pamddka. 


s«icc,  I  took  Rujeet  Sing,  my  Shikaree,  and  an- 
other  resolute  and  faithful  servant,  and  searched 
the  house  from  garret  to  cellar.  No  trace  of  a 
livmg  thmg  outside  the  members  of  my  own 
household  was  to  be  found. 

"Much  easier  in  mind  now,  I  went  back  to 
Jeanie,  and  found  her— she  being  a  girl  of 
courageous  spirit  and  elastic  temperament— al- 
ready disposed  to  laugh  at  her  fears. 

1,  ?.^^  °"^y  I  *^^*^y  fanatic,  as  I  said,  dear,'  I 
caUed  to  her  as  I  entered  the  room.  There  are 
hundreds  of  them  in  a  great  city  like  this.  I'U 
make  the  servants  keep  strict  watch  to-night  so 
as  to  be  sure  nothing  of  the  sort  enters  the  house 
agaui.  To-morrow,  since  you've  been  so  frieht- 
ened  here,  we'll  go  to  a  hotel  for  the  week  before 
the  ship  sails. ' 

'"Very  well,'  said  Jeanie,  laughing.  'I'm 
ashamed  to  have  been  such  a  little  fool.  But  now 
you  have  an  important  dispatch  to  write  (this 
was  true  enough).  Hurry  and  finish  it,  for  it  is 
.  late.  I  dont  feel  a  bit  sleepy,  so  I'll  wait  till 
youve  done  on  the  veranda,  on  the  other  side, 
where  the  wind  is  so  cooling,  if  you'll  place  some 
of  the  people  within  call.' 

"Right,  love,"  said  I,  kissing  her.  "I'll  post 
Kujeet  Smg  and  another  man  at  the  door  where 
you  saw  the  woman.  They'll  be  withia  easy  call, 
and  yet  not  so  near  as  to  disturb  you. 

"I  kissed  her  again,  and  we  parted,  I  to  write 
my  dispatch,  and  she  to  go  back  to  the  veranda. 

1  did  not,  however,  tell  her  of  a  singular  thinj? 
which  happened  during  our  search  of  the  hous^ 


The  NtcKLAci  o»  Paitouia.  13 

for  I  made  lieht  of  it  at  the  time,  and  did  not 
want  to  disturb  her  mind  again. 

"As  we  had  passed  through  the  hall,  after 
■earchmg  the  upper  part  of  the  house,  one  of  the 
servants— a  sweeper  and  low  caste  man— came 
•ataanimg  and  crouching  to  me,  and  said,  putting 
lorth  his  hands  deprecatingly, 

^Iw'i  5'"?*'?°'  °^  '^"^  ^°°'''  The  Mem- 
bahib  (lady)  has  seen  The  Dark  One!'    The 

Mem  Sahib  »s  right  Take  her  away  I  Not  till 
she  is  on  'the  Black  Water'  (the  sea)  will  she  be 
sate! 

"We  couldn't  get  a  word  of  explanation  out  of 
mm,  or  indeed  another  word,  good  or  bad,  and  I 
disregarded  his  saying  as  the  babble  of  native 
superstition,  but,  oh,  if  I  had  but  taken  Teanie 
away  that  night!  "' 

"I  finished  my  dispatch  in  rather  less  than  an 
hour,  and,  rising,  went  to  call  my  wife. 

I  found   the   servants   awake   and   vigilant 

ifxf  *^  P°^**^  *^*^™  ^y  th«  doorway. 
My  wife  was  on  the  part  of  the  broad  veran- 
da (which  ran  all  round  the  bungalow)  that  was 
just  round  the  comer  of  the  house,  and  was 
*"fr*^°r^  .°"*  o^  sight  of  the  servants,  but,  as  I 
said,  withm  easy  call.  Now,  remember!  These 
men  had  heard  no^/wn^— absolutely  nothing— to 
awake  on  their  minds  the  slightest  suspicion  that 
anything  was  wrong. 

"I  called  'Jeanie !'  in  my  ordinary  voice— then 
louder— thinking  she  might  have  fallen  asleep- 
then  strode  forward  round  the  comer  of  the 
veranda,  followed  by  the  servants. 


^1! 


rn- 


\\ 


14  The  Necklaoe  of  Pandura. 

**TJe  veranda  was  mostly  in  shadow,  but  with 
braul  ban  of  the  moonlight  spread  across  it. 

She  was  lyiiq^  on  a  broad  lounge  at  the  fur- 
ther come.-.  I  was  approaching  her,  still  think- 
uig  that  she  was  asleep,  when  something  strange- 
ly contorted  in  her  attitude  struck  me  and  made 
my  heart  stand  stiU.  There  seemed  to  be  a  broad 
«?.r°  u  °"****"**^  white  across  her  face,  too. 
With  one  bound  I  was  beside  her.  There  lay 
my  young  bride  dead— strangled  by  some  dem- 
on s  hand  I  A  broad  silk  sash  had  been  thrown 
across  her  face,  effectually  and  at  once  stifling 
the  slightest  outcry,  on  her  fair  white  arms  were 
the  purple  marks  of  strong  clutching  hands,  and 
round  her  neck,  which  the  cursed  necklace  had 
just  encircled,  was  a  deep  black  ring,  which 
marked  where  the  cord  of  the  strangler  had  been. 
Her  limbs  were  horribly  contorted— and  her 
face  I  Oh,  Heaven !  I  can't  tell  you  more !  If  it 
were  not  that  I  know  I  am  soon  to  join  her.  I 
would  go  mad !" 

"My  poor  uncle  1"  I  exclaimed  in  pity  and  hor- 
ror. Most  cruel— most  horrible  I  Some  devilish 
Thuggee  murder,  of  course,  in  some  way  con- 
nected with  the  necklace  consecrated  to  Kali." 

So  thought  every  one— so  thought  the  Gov- 
ernment, he  answered  sadly,  "and  Calcutta  and 
naif  Indw  were  scoured  for  weeks  by  hundreds 
of  Government  agents  and  detectives ;  and  what's 
more,  m  India,  immense  rewards  were  offered 
without— needless  to  say— the  slightest  result.  I 
think  otherwise.  I  think  that  the  East  has  its 
own  gods  and  its  own  mysteries.  I  think  that 
for  some  unknown  reason  whoever  lets  a  white 


The  Necklace  of  Pandura.  15 

woman  wear  that   demon's   necklace,   awakens 

"Why,  uncle,  why?" 

He  took  from  his  desk   a   letter— or   rather 

^'^^Jtr^""*"  '"  Hindustanee  characters. 

frorth!*p*"  ^D^^"'"  \^'*'^-  "This  came 
from  the   Ranee  Pandura  Mahal  th  •  very  day 

LSls  *'""w'"'  '''?r'"«^  *h«*  she  had  been  so 
oertam  of  what  would  occur,  that  she  had  sent 
her  messenger  after  me  the  very  day  after  mv 
departure  from  her  court  and  some  time  befori 
the  crime  was  committed.    It  runs  thus: 

wif.  °L  cT  J'^'''"  ^^'^  y°""&  Ferenghee 

wife,  .haIoner-Sah»b-true  and  honorable  Feren- 
ghee soldier— the  gift  of  necklace  of  Kali.  No 
mortal  can  be  punished  for  the  deed.  The  God- 
dess herself  hath  honored  your  house.  .\nd 
know  this  also,  for  your  comfort— In  a  man's 
hands  the  talisman  is  harmless— nay,  even  brings 
good  fortune.  But  whoever  lets  a  woman  of 
your  race  wear  it,  on  him  falls  also  the  Shadow— 

*""X?i,      T.       .  t.  P*"^»^^  Mahal." 

WheAer  I  m  right  or  wrong  we'll  soon  see. 
I  care  little  Take  these  jewels  in  keeping,  my 
lad,  as  a  gift  irom  your  old  uncle,  who  has  made 
you  his  heir,  and  who  wishes  you  well  in  your 
career.  But,  remember,  I  charge  you  as  my  last 
request,  never  let  any  white  woman  ever  even  see 
that  necklace !    Good-bye  I" 

T^^^^J*'^'"^  *h*  ^*^*  ^°''^5  '  ever  heard  him 
speak.  Three  days  afterwards  he  was  found  sit- 
ting upright  in  his  great  arm  chair  in  his  study. 
The  door  of  the  room  was  locked  on  the  inside 


m 


^, 


ir 


10 


Twt  NiCKLACB  OF  PaNODIA. 


?S  ^  V."  F**^y  ■'^®"«"  »"<*  blackened  with 
suffused  blood,  to  was  his  left  arm  and  shoul- 
der, and  on  the  wrist  of  that  left  arm  were  two 
deep  punctures,  exactly  like  those  made  by  the 
teeth  of  a  cobra. ' 

*  i"^  "!f  recommend  you,  nephew  Harry,  to 
take  that  fine  rope  of  Ceylon  pearls  as  a  weddimr 
mft  for  your  fiance,  Mary  Trevor,  instead  of 
the  necklet  you  admire  so  much." 

I  drew  a  longr  breath,  and  spoke  for  the  first 
^"?  ™y  »nc'e  bad  beg^un  his  narrative. 

Thanks,  uncle,  I  mil  take  that  splendid  rope 
of  pearls  for  Mary.  As  for  that  infernal  thin^ 
I  d  send  It  back  to  my  banker's  at  once— or,  bet- 
ter still,  row  out  with  it  to  sea  a  mile  or  so.  and 
drop  ,t  m.  The  necklace  of  Kali  is  no  wedding 
gift  for  an  English  woman  I"  ^^^ 


:  > 


u^r 


Tb  Nkxlaci  or  Pambuba. 


n 


THE  CAPTURE  OF  TOM  DARE. 

There  were  some  peculiarities  about  my  Eng- 
luh  friend,  Tom  Dare.  To  begin  with,  he  was 
an  enthusiastic  sportsman.  There's  nothing 
strange  about  that.  Most  Englishmen  of  his 
type  are.  But  then,  he  was  besides,  one  of  the 
worst  shots  (when  he  first  came  out  to  this 
country — he  improved  afterwards)  that  I  ever 
saw  "waste  his  lead  upon  the  desert  air." 

Now,  most  Englishmen  of  his  type  (he  was 
the  younger  son  of  a  Buckinghamshire  squire) 
are  excellent  shots,  being  "to  the  manor  bom,"  as 
It  were,  which  made  this  defect  of  his  the  more 
remarkable.  He  was  very  credulous  in  some 
thmgs,  particularly  as  regards  game  and  shoot- 
mg  m  America.  Here  again,  he  resembled  many 
other  Englishmen.  But,  as  a  western  friend— 
who  had,  I  believe,  made  the  experiment— re- 
marked, "Any  one  that  tried  to  pick  up  Tom 
Dare  for  a  fool,  got  left— and  left  bad."  He  was 
brave,  generous,  and  impulsive,  much  more  re- 
sembling an  Irishman  than  an  Englishman  in  this 
last  respect.  He  was  not,  perhaps,  strong 
enough  to  knock  down  an  ox  after  the  fashion  of 
the  old  Greek  heroes ;  but  he  could  knock  down 
a  man  with  ease  and  dispaich,  if  the  occasion 
warranted  it. 
He  wa»  very  near-sighted,  which  accounted  in 


r 


X8 


The  Necklace  of  Panduia. 


part  for  his  f.aquent  bad  shots,  and  he  always 
wore  what  he  called  "glawses." 

His  principal  characteristics,  when  I  first 
knew  hun,  were,  First,  a  most  determined  and 
persistent  passion  for  the  pursuit  of  all  sorts  of 
game,  large  and  small,  and.  Second,  a  rooted  and 
mveterate  distrust  of  the  fairer  portion  of  the 
human  race.  This  last  trait  of  his  gave  me  a 
sort  of  foreboding  anxiety  about  him  from  the 
first  hours  of  our  acquaintance.  It  seemed  to 
point  at  him  unerringly  as  one  predestined  to  an 
early  doom— or  to  an  early  marriage,  which  is 
much  the  same  thing. 

I  never  saw  a  mysogynist  yet,  that  any  clever 
girl  couldn't  capture  in  a  week,  if  she  thought  it 
worth  her  while. 

So  I  kept  an  eye  on  Tom  Dare,  as  I  liked  him 
from  the  first,  and  knew  what  the  fate  of  a  viru- 
lent woman  hater  like  him  would  be,  if  any  as- 
tute female  once  got  on  his  trail. 

wr?^^^/^*^^^^  ^^^  ^'"  ^^°w  what  success  I  had. 
When  I  first  saw  Tom,  it  was  on  the  Canadian 
Grand  Trunk  train,  going  west,  somewhere  be- 
tween Kingston  and  Toronto.  His  compartment 
m  the  Pullman  car  resembled  a  small  shop  for  the 
sale  of  sporting  goods,  or  an  exhibit  of  deadly 
and  murderous  weapons.  Gun  and  rifle  cases  lay 
around  him.  He  had  evidently  not  been  able  to 
endure  their  removal  from  his  sight  to  the  bag- 
gage car.  At  every  stop,  he  would  move  for- 
ward to  the  said  car,  and  inspect  a  huge  St.  Ber- 
nard, a  pair  of  pointers,  and  an  evil  minded  bull- 
dog with  mournful  solicitude.  These  interesting 
animals  were  making  about  as  much  noise  as  a 


The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 


«9 


pack  of  hounds  in  full  cry;  and  two  of  them — 
the  St.  Bernard  and  the  bulldog — were  danger- 
ous to  come  near. 

There  is  a  singular  freemasonry  among 
sportsmen  of  the  genuine  order.  So  some  ideas 
exchanged  on  sporting  t  pics,  and  some  timely 
assistance  I  was  able  ;  r  give  him  ii  soothing  his 
excited  quadrupeds,  aucd  him  t:  chat  quite 
freely  on  various  con  ,'etiial  topics 

I  soon  found  out  ilji  lie  /as  bound  for  the 
very  city  I  lived  in,  and  that  he  had  letters  of  in- 
troduction to  several  people  I  knew.  On  finding 
out  that  we  had  mutual  acquaintances — English- 
man-like— Dare  expanded  at  once,  and  I  was 
soon  in  possession  of  most  of  his  experiences, 
tribulations,  and  trials  since  his  recent  arrival  in 
the  New  World;  and  of  some  of  his  hopes  and 
plans  for  the  future.  He  had  some  property  left 
him  by  a  deceased  maiden  aunt,  besides  the  usual 
younger  son's  allowance;  so  he  was  able  to  a 
great  extent  to  follow  his  own  inclinations. 

These  inclinations  led  him  to  Canada  "to  look 
about  him,"  and,  incidentally,  to  lessen  the  num- 
ber of  wild  animak  in  that  country  by  every 
means  in  his  power.  He  confided  to  me  in  a 
burst  of  enthusiasm,  invoked  by  some  appreciative 
remarks  of  mine,  betokening  a  congenial  spirit — 
that  "Spawt" — "real  wild  spawt" — was  at  present 
the  guiding  star  of  his  existence,  and  that  to  en- 
joy it,  unfettered  by  any  of  the  effete  restraints 
which  hedged  it  in  at  home,  was  the  chief  reason 
of  his  leaving  his  native  shore. 

"Besides,  don't  ye  know,"  he  went  on  with  re- 
freshing candor;  "out  here  you  can  get  spawt 


■ilMiiiAtM^rdBkflta 


flO 


The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 


without  having  women  always   botherin'   after 
you,  as  they're  getting  to  do  in  England.    As  a 
rule,  I  cawn't  bear  women— and  they  cawn't  bear 
me.    At  least  they  couldn't  till  my  awnt  left  me 
her  property.    I  consider  'em  a  sort  of  necessary 
evil  at  the  best;  and  when  they  take  to  joinin'  in, 
and  spoilin'  all  kinds  of  spawt  (shootin'  particu- 
larly), as  they've  taken  to  doing  now;  they're  an 
unmixed  evil.    Why,  I  pledge  ye  my  word,  just 
aftaw  I  came  into  my  awnt's  money,  a  girl  from 
Lunnon,  who  was  staying  at  our  place,  would 
actually  hang  herself  onto  me  when  I'd  go  out 
shootin'  (partridge  driving— that  sawt  of  thing, 
ye  know).    Would  do  it,  and  she   insisted   on 
fiawmg  a  gun  at  last.    And  when  she  did  flaw  it, 
she  pulled  both  triggers  at  once,  and  kicked  her- 
self ovah  backwards,  and  knocked  all  her  hair- 
pins out.    Then  she  called  me  a  murderaw— said 
It  was  all  my  fault!    I  had  to  lug  her  home,  and 
lost  the  best  day's  spawt  that  season.    Aftaw  that, 
I  cut  the  old  country  and  came  out  heah." 

I  asked  him  how  he  liked  the  New  World  as 
far  as  he'd  got. 

"Well,  don't  ye  know,"  said  he,  "I'm  rather 
disappomted  so  far.  There  seem  to  be  just  as 
many  girls  hangin'  about  in  New  York  and  Hali- 
fax and  Montreal  as  there  are  in  England.  But 
most  likely,  things  will  improve  up  country. 
Then,  as  to  spawt.  Of  cawse,  I  haven't  regularly 
set  to  work  yet.  Haven't  had  the  chawnce,  ye 
know.  Only  tried  my  luck  once,  when  I  got  to  a 
place  called  Kingston  a  few  days  ago.  I  had  to 
put  m  a  week  there  arranging  about  forwarding 


The  Necklace  of  Panduxa. 


at 


my  remittances  from  England.    So  I  thought  I'd 
'prospect  a  bit,'  as  you  Qinadian  fellows  say. 

"So  I  took  my  gun  and  dogs,  and  the  train, 
and  got  off  at  a  small  station  a  few  miles  out  in 
the  woods.  It  was  a  glorious  September  mawn- 
ing,  and  I  was  truly  more  happy  than  for  yeahs. 
Deep  wild  forest  all  around  me — ^no  botherin' 
girls,  no  wretched  conventionalities  I  I  shot  some 
squirrels,  and  what  you  call  partridges,  but  saw 
no  deahs  or  beahs.  I  was  just  reflecting,  how- 
ever, that  they  would  probably  be  scarce  neah  a 
place  the  size  of  Kingston — when,  to  my  infinite 
delight,  I  stumbled  on  a  flock  of  wild  turkeys. 
They  were  ridiculously  tame — so  much  so  that 
though  far  from  being  a  good  shot,  I  soon  got 
six.  And  me  pointaws  caught  one,  and  the  bull- 
dog anothaw.  I  was  collecting  my  game  with 
the  joy  and  pride  that  only  a  true  sportsman  can 
feel,  when  I  heard  a  series  of  the  most  awful 
shouts  and  execrations,  and  lookin'  up,  I  per- 
ceived a  dreadfully  wild  and  unkempt  old  woman 
comin'  at  me  with  a  pitchfork.  I  gathered  from 
her  uproarious  and  singularly  rude  remawks  that 
'she  was  a  squatter  in  that  block  of  woods,'  and 
that  I  had  been  ''-astatin'  her  flock  of  turkeys. 
I  had  to  pay  t-  -hilars  for  those  birds.    So 

my  first  day's  sp  the  wilds  of  Canada  was 

a  wretched  disappomtment." 

I  cheered  up  Dare  with  the  hope  of  better 
things,  when  I  would  be  able  to  show  him  some- 
thing of  real  Canadian  shooting;  for  I  could  see 
that  he  had  the  disposition  of  a  true  sportsman, 
and  as  we  were  drawing  near  the  city  of  our  des- 
tination, offered  to  help  him  disembark  his  dogs, 


fi 


33 


The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 


and  get  them  safely  off  to  whatever  hotel  he 
might  select  as  his  resting  place  for  the  night. 

♦t,  u  ,f?*'°"  ^^^  ^^""y  crowded,  a  matter  which 
the  bulldog  seemed  to  consider  as  a  personal  in- 
sult to  himself. 

We  had  got  a  cab  at  last,  and  had  begun  to 
stow  away  the  first  instalment  of  firearmsf  when 
some  one  accidentally  kicked  the  bull  dog,  who 
forthwith  froze  tc  him  wth  a  silent  attention  to 
fcusii:ess  that  showed  me  Dare  hadn't  boasted  at 
an  when  ne  said  it  was  a  thoroughbred.  That 
wasn't  all.  The  big  St.  Bernard,  who  had  been 
as  good  as  gold  up  till  then,  seeing  the  bulldog  at 
work,  uttered  a  roar  like  a  lion,  and  pulled  d?wn 
the  cabman,  while  the  pointers,  who  were  coupled 
together,  got  their  chain  entangled  round  some 
adies,  and  then  pulled  against  each  other  with 
panic  stricken  howls. 

«™  ^""l-^?^  ''■y'J^S^  *°  ^^o'^e  off  his  dogs. 

a^^.«n^    «'*  ^""-  P^'^  P'*°'"P«y  '^"o^^ked  the 
aggressor  qo»»ii,  and  a  fierce  battle  of  dogs  and 

'"^J?  *o°Jf  PJace  over  his  prostrate  carcass. 

This    spawtmg"  episode  was  terminated  only 
by  Dare  s  having  to  pay  a  smart  sum  to  the  bit- 
ten men,  m  order  to  avoid  being  summoned ;  and 
we  got  off  to  the  hotel  at  last,  where  we  parted 
after  arranging  various  shooting  expeditions.       ' 

,Jf^^'  "^/"^  ^!"^®'  presented  his  letters  of  in- 
troduction to  various  families,  was  taken  up  very 
kindly  by  society,  and  "put  up"  at  most  of  tlZ 
clubs;  and  was  even  to  be  seen,  with  an  intense 
expression  of  hopeless  gloom  overshadowing  his 
funcf''"^""'    ^^'^^""S   *t    various    fashioSaWe 


The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 


23 


X  met  him  often  at  the  club  and  elsewhere,  and 
got  to  like  him  very  much.  We  had  managed 
to  get  off  for  a  day's  shooting  two  or  three  times 
together,  though  with  great  difficulty,  as  it  was 
almost  impossible  for  Dare,  at  this  period  of  his 
advent,  to  escape  from  the  toils  woven  round 
him  by  fashionable  sirens. 

For,  alas !  it  had  gone  abroad  among  the  fai*- 
dames  of  the  city  that  Tom  was  distinctly  eligible, 
besides  being  of  good  family,  and  "English,  you 
know."  Of  course,  not.  being  a  bankrupt  Duke, 
or  a  "done  up"  Nobleman,  Tom  was  hardly  big 
enough  game  for  the  American  Heiress  with  a 
big  H,  but  he  was  an  excellent  match  notwith- 
standing for  any  girl  with  reasonable  expecta- 
tions ;  besides  being  a  good,  honest  manly  fellow, 
though  of  course  that  was  merely  a  minor  con- 
sideration to  most  of  the  many  matrons  who  al- 
ready had  an  eye  en  him  for  dear  Jane,  or  darling 
Gladys,  or  Ethel. 

So,  if  he  had  left  the  old  country  for  solitary 
sport,  and  to  escape  feminine  blandishments,  Tom 
might  have  been  said  to  have  slipped  out  of  the 
frying  pan  into  the  fire. 

Siill,  we  had  a  day  or  two  out  after  such  game 
as  the  neighborhood  afforded.  Dare  had  learned 
by  this  time  that  elk  and  caribou  did  not  abound 
in  the  vicinity  of  New  York;  that  buffalo  were 
extinct  on  the  Hamilton  mountain,  and  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Toronto.  In  fact,  that  they 
were  virtually  extinct  everywhere  in  America. 
Also  that  to  get  big  game  anywhere  in  America, 
you  must  go  a  long  way  back.  So  he  pursued  the 
partridge,  the  wild  duck,  and  the  rabbit,  with 


■■MMniHiiiaiH 


i^ 


1 


M  Tbe  Necklace  of  Pandotu. 

.ventag  when  i,  was'S^o"/ daTiftorTIC 

B.a„,ed  .c„d  sS't  S"  li^hU  or  ek^-rJ 
a  i»mful  thought  seemed  to  strite  hiwJ'r^ 
shot  one  of  Saunders'  does  I"    wS  ,TZ   •" 

rAJtC^^'s-S^doriS 

dared  not  tell  th*>  h*.r»o„J!i  c  *»  .  ^^  iiterally 
happened  jus  then  whlll  ^^""^"'■^  ^^^^  ^^d 
skulked  away  towaVds  1  ^""^1'""'^'  '°  ^* 
departed,  thenar  rent  wththe^'v'fr*^'  ^^  ^« 

of  the  unconscious  Saunders  as  hf'r  '"^  ^""^ 
call  one,  who    Wcp    fh^      • ',  ^^.  "^  strove  to  re- 

"Raven,"  C^ld  return  /h'^    '"    ^^^"'^    P°«'» 
Next  Hav   ni    return,  ah,  nevermore!" 
X^l«t  day.  Dare  confessed  to  Saunders.    But 


The  Necklace  of  Panduua. 


as 


rm  not  writing  a  tragedy,  so  I  won't  describe 
the  scene. 

Next  trip  Dare  got  more  game,  but  he  also  put 
the  best  part  of  a  charge  of  No.  lo  (dust  shot, 
luckily)  mto  the  back  of  a  (previously)  uncon- 
scious farmer,  who  was  smoking  a  restful  pipe 
beneath  the  maple  boughs.  The  man  so  stir- 
ringly aroused  from  autumnal  day  dreams,  never 
knew  who  hit  him,  for  Ton.  and  I  managed  to 
elude  him,  though  we  heard  him  routing  like  a 
demon  through  the  woods  for  a  long  time. 

A  few  days  after  this  last  adventure,  Dare  was 
mvited  by  a  Mr.  Parkes,  a  well-to-do  merchant 
of  the  city,  to  spend  a  few  weeks  at  a  hunting 
lodge  he  had,  on  one  of  the  upper  lakes  in  Mus- 
koka,  for  the  purpose  of  having  some  deer  shoot- 
ing. 

A  similar  invitation  was  extended  to  myself. 
We  both  accepted  with  alacrity.  The  only  draw- 
back about  the  matter,  in  Dare's  opinion,  was 
that  Mrs.  Parkes,  and  a  party  of  ladies,  her 
friends,  were  to  accompany  us ;  for  the  "lodge  in 
the  wilderness"  was  a  commodious  one,  and 
there  was  no  fear  that  they  would  have  to  roueh 
it.  ^ 

"Great  bawl"  Tom  remarked  to  me  at  the 
club  the  day  after  receiving  the  invitation.  "It 
must  be  sheer  perversity — cawn't  be  anything 
else,  ye  know — that  makes  a  lot  of  women  lug 
themselves  and  their  traps  at  this  time  of  the 
yeah  up  into  the  nawthern  wilderness,  merely  to 
prevent  a  lot  of  fellows  who've  nevah  done  'em 
any  harm  from  having  the  least  chawnce  of 
spawt.    Women  don't  really  like  spawt.    They 


I] 


a6  -The  Ntcklaci  OF  Pandotu. 

hUSi!*'  ''^  °"'^  ^1"**  °*  ^"°^'  *«y  ^»'ke'»  "»» 

.2?  •.  ^°"  "*^^  "y  '^°^^'  my  boy;  thevTl 
either  stop  our  shootin'^  altogether  and  keep  us 
Jjuvm  round  with  'cm  erubbin'  up  ferns,  or 
chiovymg  aftaw  autumn  leaves,  or  else  they'll 
msist  on  goin'  out  shootin'  with  us.  and  ♦hen 
some  of  'em  '11  pt  kUled  trying  to  show  of!.'' 

.oj7?"  .^°?]-  *  J*.  ^  *«'■<*  °n  them,  Dare," 
SMd  I,  'If  Miss  Helen  Seebright  and  her  auAt 
were  gomg  to  be  of  the  party.'^ 

Dare  looked  at  me  with  a  gaze  of  dreamv 
and  of  what,  in  view  of  subsequent  events,  I  may 
almost  call  prophetic  melancholy.  "They  are  so- 
mg  to  be  of  the  pawty."  said  he,  and  looked  up 
rJv!?  "gar  smoke  circling  towards  the  ceiling  m 
a  k>st  sort  of  way.  * 

fr/Jn*"  ^l"**  ^""^  i*'*'"  '*^^  ^'  ^ooWng  at  my 
friend  with  grave,  almost  sympathetic  interest 

Now,  It  may  be  said  here,  that  I'd  observed 
from  seeing  them  together  at  various  garden 
^i^l^f  dances  that  this  same  Miss  Helen 
bcebright  was  rapidly  causing  Mr.  Tom  Dare 
to  make  one  exception  at  least,  to  his  rule  that  all 
women  were  born  merely  to  deceive  and  oppress 
mankind;  and  prevent  them  from  enjoying  any 
sensible  amusement  in  peace.  I'd  noticed  with 
astonislunent  that  Tom  actually  liked  to  talk  to 
her  and  even  tolerated  her  dreadful  aunt,  evi- 
dently for  her  sake. 

Ao^'5  ^ll*"  Seebright  was,  I  must  adr.at,  now 
that  Its  all  over,  a  very  nice  girl,  and  a  verv 
dever  g,rl,  too,  as  I'd  reason  to  f dmit  soon.  sf2 
hadnt  a  cent  being  dependent  entirely  on  her 
aunt  aforesaid,  Mrs.  McKetchar. 


The  Necklace  of  Pandura.  37 

She  was  that  dangerous  and  pcrolexinir  thino. 

she  hadn  t  a  good  feature  in  her  face,  as  thev  al- 

^u^'J^A  ?^  'r'^^'  S'^'«-     They    wei   wr^^ 

abundant  ^T'^  ^^^  ^>-^^'  ^^"t'f«l  ^^tl^d 
?i,i?  ?  V  ^u""^^  ^^*^^«'  with  a  good  fitmre 
(which  she  had)  are  all  that  a  man  cares  Kt 
in  the  way  of  feminine  beauty.  She  san^  « 
qmsitely  and  had  that  rare  cha^rm-a  sweef  sofi 
voic-  when  speaking.  '     " 

Th^?'!r  f'  ^''^  r°^'d  make  herself  interesting. 

I£a  ie  Hked'^a^d  ' ' '^'.  '  "?f "  *^'"^  ^^^  ^^^^d 
wnat  ne  iked ,  and,  incidentally,  manage  to  con- 
vey the  impression  to  his  mind  that  Ws  sem"- 
ments,  opmu^ns  and  ideas  on  all  subjects  were 
superior  and  admirable.  So  that  she  was  Tito 
gether  a  dangerous  little  person  for  a  man  who" 
didn  t^  want  to  fall  in  love,  to  have  anyXg"  to 

Her  aunt    Mrs.  McKetchar,  was  briefly  what 
IS  called  m  Western  America,  "A  Terror  " 

She  was  a  tall,  lank  woman,  with  a  long  face 
like  a  horse,  ornamented  by  a  prodigious  Roman 
nose,  above  which  a  pair  of  small,  rat-Hke  twbk" 
Img  black  eyes  shone  beneath  a  glarinSv  fSse 
front  of  faded  brown  hair.    She  wi  the  wife  of 
an  impecunious  M.  P.,  who  had  spent  Tws 
means,  and  a  great  deal  more,  getting  into  "the 
House,"  and  who  now  lived  on  his  ^wTts     and 
some  mysterious  thing    ailed  "Patronag^ "' wW^h 
somehow  seemed  at  times  to  bring  in  |uite  a  lot 
of  money.    She  was  an  English  woman  but  the 
careless  way  in  which  she  dealt  with  the  letter 
H,  when  excited,  or  indeed,  at  all  unguarded  m^ 


aB 


The  Necklace  of  Panduka.' 


ments,  showed  she  was  not  exactly  descended 
frwn  one  of  the  county  families.  She  was  a 
peat  match  maker,  and  incidentally,  match 
breaker.  She  had  married  her  own  daughters  oflF 
well,  by  dint  of  sheer  effrontery— what  the  vul- 
t  ^r  call  "gall." 

When  she  wasn't  match  making,  she  was  mis- 
chief making.  To  conclude,  she  could  cringe  to 
those  above  her,  or  to  '^ose  from  whom  she 
wanted  to  get  anything,  and  insult  those  from 
whom  she  had  nothing  to  gain  or  expect,  as  only 
a  vulgar  lower  middle  class  English  woman  can. 
The  very  next  night  after  our  talk  at  the  club, 
I  heard  (accidentally,  and  quite  involuntarily)  a 
few  words  of  a  conversation  between  Miss  See- 
bright  and  Dare,  at  a  garden  party,  which  made 
me  reflect. 

'Twas  but  a  fragment,  but  significant.    I  had 
been  seized,  nolens  volens,    by   dear   old    Mrs. 
McKetchar,  who  cornered  me  in  a  nook  of  one  of 
the  piazzas,  near  a  small  conservatory,  where  she, 
having  first  ma  If  me  bring  her  some  light  re- 
freshment, proct  d-d  to  put  me  through  a  good 
steady  catechism  as  to  my  friend,  Mr.  Dare:  his 
means,  family  expectations,  etc.,  etc.     I  evaded 
her  for  a  time,  but  driven  desperate  at  last  by  the 
vulgar  directness  of  her  questions,  I  adopted  the 
expedient  recommended  by  Bismarck  in  similar 
circumstances,  of  telling  all  I  knew,  and  a  great 
deal  more.    I'd  just  finished  informing  her  that, 
though  a  commoner  himself,  two  of  Dare's  uncles 
were  dukes,  who,  unfortunately  for  Dare,  had 
taken  a  solemn  oath  on  the  great  altar  at  West- 
minster Abbey  (having  travelled  up  to  London 


Tbb  Necklace  or  Panouka.  19 

from  their  country  seats  for  the  express  purpose) 
to  disown  their  nephew  if  he  married  durinR  his 
travels  m  America, 

While  she  was  pondering  over  this  important 
piece  of  mformation,  she  suddenly  perceived  the 
Bishop  of  the  diocese,  whom  she  was  always 
badgermflr  about  something  or  other,  and  sayine 
guickly  that  "she  would  be  back  in  a  hinstant  to 
finish  our  delightful  conversation,  was  off  in  pur- 
suit of  the  unhappy  prelate  like  a  hawk  after  its 
prey.  She  left  her  fan,  and  sundry  other  impedi- 
menta m  myu:harge,  so  I  couldn't  bolt.  She  had 
scarcely  gone  when  I  beard  the  voices  of  Miss 
beebnght  and  Tom  Dare  from  the  small  conser- 
vatory.   The  young  lady  spoke  first. 

'I  assure  you,  Mr.  Dare,  I  was  never  so  vexed 
in  my  life,  as  when  I  found  my  aunt  had  bound 
us  both  over  to  go  on  this  Muskoka  trip.  Girls 
are  out  of  place  in  these  shooting  trips.  It's  so 
new-womanish,  too!" 

Dare  (interrupting) :  "Oh,  don't  dream  of 
thinking  that,  Miss  Helen !  Some  girls  would  be 
m  the  way,  but  yo«— so  chawming,  so— so— so  " 
(Words  fail  him.) 

Miss  Helen  (quite  calm) :  "That's  very  nice 
of  you,  Mr.  Dare,  but  it's  only  your  good  nature 
In  summer  a  mixed  party  is  all  very  well.  But 
in  the  fall,  when  men  want  to  shoot,  and  roueh 
It,  women  are  nuisances."  (Dare's  very  senti- 
ments, as  expressed  to  me  a  short  time  before  ) 

Dare:  "Oh,  Miss  Helen!    Really  now!    The 
ideah  of  your  being  a  nuisance  1—evah— any- 
where!" (Laughs  wildly.)  ^ 
Miss  Helen  (calmly  pursuing  the   subject): 


30  Tm  NtcKLAcs  or  Panbuba. 

"And  all  manly  men,  like  you,  Mr.  Dare,  dont 
«re  to  see  women  out  of  their  places,  thoueh  I 
do  love  the  woods  with  all  my  heart    The  ^ly 
tune  when  I  long  to  be  a  man  is  when  I  see 
some  of  vou  setting  off  on  your  shooting  expedi- 
tions.   How  glorious  to  gallop  through  the  prinv 
eval  forest  on  your  thoroughbred  horses,  in  pur- 
»««of  bears,  and— and— porcupines  I" 
uM."v"^*'**~*^""'ni^— enthralling  I     But  I 
bheve  they  don't  chase  beahs  on  horseback  in 
(..anada;  and  as  I'm  infawmed  porcupines  live 
up  twees,  in  holes  in  the  wocks,  you  cawn't  gal- 
lop aftaw  them  on  horses  much." 

Miss  Helen  (with  feminine  logic) :  "Yes,  but 
the  pnnciples  the  same.  The  woodland  life  is 
unique,  as  you  say  so  cleverly— enthralling.  But 
1  promise  you,  though,  if  I  have  to  go,  that  youll 
see  very  little  of  me  during  the  trip?' 

Dare  (aghast) :  "Oh,  don't  say  anything  so 
cruel.  Miss  Helen!  When  a  fellah's  chief  in- 
ducement to  go  was  to  have  the  chawnce  of  see- 
mgyou  often!'     (What  next,  Tom?  thought  I.) 

Miss  Helen  (looking  at  him  very  effectively) : 
w  n'^'xT"*^®^  that  may  I  believe,  I  wonder? 
vveii,  Mr.  Dare,  you  re  so  nice  about  it,  that  I 
almost  wish  you  were  my  brother,  for  then,  you 
know,  I  could  make  you  take  me  out  to  see  you 
shoot  bears  and  things,  without  caring  if  I  bored 
you  or  not. 

Dare  (wildly  and  recklessly):  "Oh,  Miss 
Hel«i,  if  I  were  only  a  brothawl  I  mean  if  I 
loved  you  more  than  a  brothaw!  I  don't  mean 
than  my  own  brothaw,  ye  know.    I  mean  any 


Thi  Necklace  of  Pandura.  jt 

brothaw.     I   mean    more   than   any   brothawl 
Here  I  upset  a  chair  with  a  crash.  I 

tall  ^H?«  ^Ll'^'^1'""'*  ^^*^«^0  :  "Who  is  that 
SSk^flow^rfl?-  u""  ^^^^  there  ?-see-with  the 
Fi?.^     :i  F'i^  °"  «!?«»~what  lovely  taste  1 

o„i^'  *^u*i^'il*'  ^  scabbed  the  fan  and  things  ' 
and  rushed  off  to  meet  Mrs.  McKetchar.  wS 
I  saw  approachmg,  and  escaping  from  her  as 
ST-fLP°' '•^^'"'"iileJ  vviti;  tl.^  othS  guests 
But  It  began  to  dawn  on  me  that.  like  moK: 
fessed  woman  haters,  Tom  was  as  w«  in^he 
han^  of  a  clever  ^irl.  and  that,  if  thbgs  went 

obH^7fnl-.  ^u-''''*'^^'^^^"'^^  Certainly  be 
obliged  to  disown  him.  Two  days  after  this  our 
expedition  started  for  Mu.skoka.^The  part^'con 

\fr  InH  M  '  ^S'S?"^  h°^*^^«'  their  L^^Jack 
Mr   and  Mrs   Ferdinand  Naylor,  a  younff  mar- 
ried pair,  "who  both  were  young,  and  on^e  Tthe 
iSd"*Th^';{:f"^'"  ^°  ,^«°t«  Byron.  sU«v 
hT,ll  A  ^hen  there  was  Mrs.  McKetchar  fheV 
husband  was  absent,  absorbed  in  public  affair! 
i.e.  borrowing  money,  and  beguiling    his    cin 
stituents  with  imaginary  visionVof  fovemment 
favors  and  benefits  to  be  obtained  ff^thTm  bv 

'^rTi:!!tyf.r^'  '''  "^^-'  ^-  S-hrTght 

hJ^lf'  f^A^^  "^^  '■^^"y  ^^"^  ^on<i  of  Miss  See- 
bright,  and  I'm  sure  would  not  have  been  at  sdl 

ti^Z  ;°/T^  her  favorite  comfor^bly  set 
tied  as  the  wife  of  such  an  eligible  as  Daref 


3a 


The  Necklace  of  Panduka. 


Between  our  hostess  and  Mrs.  McKetchar,  on 
the  other  hand,  there  merely  existed  that  armed 
truce  that  stands  for  friendship  amongst  most 
women.    We  got  to  Mr.  Parkes'  roomy  and  com- 
fortable hunting  lodge,  situated  on  a  beautiful 
lake,  m  the  nadst  of  some  of  the  best  deer  coun- 
try m  the  d'strict  without   adventure,   and   de- 
lighted with  each  other.    There's  nothing  like  a 
trip  to  the  woods,  to  bring  out  people's  best  qual- 
ities ;  that  is,  as  long  as  the  weather's  good— but 
beware  of  rain  1    We  found  the  two  guides.  Tack 
Scott  and  Kit  Todd,  waiting    for   us    at    Mr 
Parkes'  private  wharf  and  the  very  next  day,  af- 
ter arriving,  yielding  to  Dare's  wild  appeals,  that 
gentleman  and  myself,  accompanied  by  Kit  Todd, 
went  for  a  short,  still  hunt  over  the  ridges   "to 
sorter  prospect,"  as  Todd  said.    We,  I  may  say 
here,  never  dreamed  of  driving  our  deer  into  the 
water,  and  then  murdering  them  at  close  range, 
as  is  too  often  done  now  by  people  who  should' 
know  better,  though  we  did  shoot  them  with  the 
rifle  on  runways  in  front  of  hounds. 

This  is  quite  advantage  enough  to  take  of 
them,  though  when  a  man  stops  a  buck  going 
past  him  at  full  speed  through  brush,  with  a  sin- 
gle bullet,  he  deserves  his  deer  even  more  than 
when  he  crawls  into  range,  and  gets  a  standine 
shot  at  him,  still-hunting. 

Tom's  emotions  on  being  at  last  a  denizen  of 
the  vast  and  trackless  wood:,  were  genuine,  and 
uncontrolled.  I  could  appreciate  them,  for  a 
more  glorious  October  morning  never  dawned 
It  was  pretty  enough  by  the  lake,  where  our 
lodge  was;  the  light  blue  of  the  water  exactly 


The  Necklace  of  Panduka.  33 

matching  the  color  of  the  sky,  while  the^startline 

foSle"o1  •"  ~fP*"«°"  of  the  brilliant  autumn^ 
foliage  of  the  trees  encircling  its  shores,  made 
the  water  seem  almost  unreal— like  air. 

But  m  the  great  woods,  it  was  grand.  The 
endless  contrast  of  huts-the  dark  red  of  Ae  oak 
agamst  the  light  yellow  of  the  beeches ;  the  vi^ 
crunson  of  the  maple  standing  out  like  a  fire  <m 

scarYet  offhl?""^l"  'M^  ^^*  °^  cedars?tS 
tS  oSLf/  *^,^"mach  and  the  gold  of  the  birch; 
i^?  «^^**  ^^'te  P»nes  and  hemlocks,  with  might^^ 
column-like  stems,  lifting  their  changelesrSS 
of  dark  needles  far  above  the  medley  of  gay  cS- 
ors  beneath  as  in  disdain  of  their  tlwdrf  ficWe- 
ness,  struck  one  first,  and  next-the  siSnce  or 
rather,  what  seemed  a  great  silence  at  first?' for 
one  soon  discovered  it  was  broken  by  imiumer' 

W,t""?r°"''-*'^^  ?^^"y  ^°'«^  o/thTg^elt 
forest-the  never-ceasing  tokens  of  the  etfrnal 
unrest  of  Nature.  The  creaking  of  one  S 
bough  against  another,  the  far-off  druZ.in?^f 

ping  of  a  pme  cone,  even  the  vague  uncertain 
descent  of  a  leaf,  or  the  cry  of  the^ay,  or  fv^ 
billed  woodpecker  far  off  in  the  deep  melanchofy 
forest,  impressed  one  with  the  idea  that  here  S 

Silt  Z?  L' V'"°"^^^^^  °^  *^^  ^^^-'  -«d  NSure 
S^W  ,  ^T'^  !.'  ^^^'^  ^"^'"^  further  and 
f^ll  -i^^^-  K^",*  ?^^'  P^t'^nt  and  biding  her 
«nT'vJ"  ?""'  ^!i't'"  ^  ^^^  thousands  of  years 
and  hide  him  and  his  works,  as  she  has  hiddS 
those  of  many  a  race  and  dynasty  in  the  old 
world  and  the  new,  since  the  earth  was  young 
Dare  felt  all  these  things  so  much.^  thaf  he 


94 


The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 


asked  to  be  allowed  to  take  care  of  himself  for 
a  while  to  give  him  the  true  feeling  of  soli- 
tude, he  said;  so  Kit  and  I  went  along  one 
ridge,  and  Dare  made  his  way  along  another  one 
runnmg  parallel  with  ours,  and  about  a  hundred 
yards  to  the  right.  He  hadn't  been  gone  twenty 
mmutes,  when  he  put  a  bullet  (45.75  Winches- 
ter) through  the  top  of  my  fore  and  aft  cap, 
which  I  had  foolishly  decorated  with  a  deer's  tail 
--an  absurdity  which  almest  invited  accident, 
when  a  tenderfoot"  was  one  of  the  party.  "Thet 
p^^with  the  goggles  is  out  after  meat,"  said 
Kit  Todd,  dryly,  as  he  surveyed  the  two  holes, 
an  seemin  ly,  he  ain't  no  ways  pertic'ler  what 
kmd  he  gits. 

Tom's  constc.-nation,  of  course,  was  extreme: 
but  It  was  mingled  with  a  sort  of  injured  feeling 

Iw*'"^  ?^  ^°'"  "°*  ^'^^'"fi^  ^^n  a  deer.  After 
that,  rodd  accompanied  Dare  to  prevent  little 
mistakes  as  to  the  nature  of  his  game,  of  the 
above-mentioned  kind,  and  also  to  prevent  his 
indulging  m  what  Todd  called  "permiskyus  gun- 
nmg,  i.e  firing  his  rifle  at  partridge,  rabbits, 
etc.,  which  he  showed  every  disposition  to  do, 
and  which  would  effectually  settle  any  hope  of 
our  even  getting  sight  of  a  deer. 

I  went  along  the  parallel  ridge  alone.  There 
were  many  deer  in  the  Muskoka  woods  in  those 
days,  and  we  saw  plenty  of  tracks,  but  I  didn't 
expect  much  success  for  several  reasons.  For 
one  thing,  the  day  was  too  fine.  There  was  no 
wmd  in  the  woods,  and  the  rustle  of  our  steps  in 
the  dead  leaves  would  be  audible  to  the  keen 
hearmg  of  a  deer  far  away.    Then  there  were 


The  Necklace  of  Pandura.  35 

too  many  of  us.  The  solitary  sportsman  is  the 
one  that  gets  game  still-hBnting.  So  I  was  agree- 
ably surprised,  when  not  five  minutes  after  we 
separated,  Dare  and  Todd  jumped  a  deer  from 
an  oak  top  with  the  leaves  stUl  on,  left  by  lum- 
berers. Todd  let  drive  at  it  with  his  single-Te 
rifle,  as  it  made  its  first  long,  beautiful  bound 

fir^M.^'^'^rr*"'*;  '*'*"8:e  to  say-for  he  was  a 
^  shot— only  scraped  its  flank 
.u  ^^Y~^  spike-buck— went  straight  away 
up  the  ridge  m  full  view;  while  with  frenzied 
haste,  and  uncertain  aim— crack  I— crack  I— 
crack !  went  Tom's  repeater. 

The  buck  was  just  topping  the  ridge,  about  a 
hundred  and  fifty  yards  off,  when  Dare  fired  a 
last  wild,  despairing  shot,  and  the  deer  gave  a 
great  bound,  stretching  his  fore  and  hind  legs 
stiffly  out.  Then  all  its  limbs  collapsed  in  mfd 
air,  and  it  pitched  straight  forward  on  its  head 

By  gee,  sir!  you    killed    him!"    yelled    the 
pide,  looking  at  Dare  with  a  wild  surprise  simi- 

exhibited  when  he  stepped  on  the  red  hot  shovel. 
But  Dare  had  had  uttered  a  long,  loud  yell  of 
triumph  and  victory,  and  was  tearing  up  the 
ridge,  brandishing  a  murderous  looking  knife. 
We  followed  and  arrived  just  in  time  to  prevent 
his  cutting  the  dead  buck's  head  off  at  one?,  for  a 
trophy.  As  Todd  and  I  came  up  the  ridge  t<^ 
gether,  I  heard  the  guide  muttering- 

"Killed  in  his  tracks!  Coin'  full  lick.  Two 
hundred  yards  good-an'  by  a  tenderfoot  ez  takes 
a  mans  hat  fer  a  deer!  Meeracles  ain't  through 
happ'nm  yet,  by  Gum  1"  ""^"ugn 


{     M 


f 


35  The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 

The  buck  was  hit  in  the  back  of  the  head,  just 
below  the  horns.    The  bullet  had  passed  through 
the  bram,  and  out  at  the  forehead,  killing  him  m- 
stantly.    It  was  a  ghastly  fluke— but  a  lucky  one. 
for  Tom  had  killed  his  first  deer  the  very  first 
day  out,  and  fairly,  too.    We  hung  the  game  up. 
and  after  prowling  about  a  bit,  returned  in  tri- 
umph to  the  lodge,  and  sent  Todd  back  with  a 
pony  to  bring  it  in.    When  we  got  home,  we  were 
all    (Dare   especially)    received   with   acclama- 
tions by  the  ladies.    Even  Mrs.  McKetchar,  who 
regarded  Nature,  the  woods  and   sport   of   aU 
kinds,  with  secret  distrust  and  dislike,  and  who 
was  sacrificing  herself  in  this  instance,   to   her 
nieces  interests,  fell  into  well-feigned  raptures 
over  the  deer.  f       *» 

"Ha!  there  are  no  sportsmen  like  the  Henglish 
hanstocrats!"  I  heard  her  say  to  Dare.  "I  sup- 
pose you've  shot  'undreds  finer  than  that  in  your 
huncle  s  pawks  and  moors." 

^^'^t^^t^^V  *  l^^^  ^'^^  ^««»'  ^faw  in  my  life, 
Mrs.  McKetchar,"  said  Tom.  "The  deer  in  Eng- 
lish pawks  are  tame  deer,  and  to  shoot  deer  m 
Scotland  one  has  to  be  a  prince,  or  duke,  or 
something  of  that  sawt." 

"But,  Mr.  Dare!"  said  Mrs.  McKetchar,  archly 
turning  the  head  crowned  with  the  false  front 
on  one  side,  and  surveying  him  with  an  admirine 
leer  in  her  cunning  little  eyes,  "you  must  hoften 
ave  seen  ole  erds  when  visiting  at  your  hun- 
cle s— your  hobdurate  huncle's." 

r^F^'^^i^/'l^^^y  ^^'■^  *^*s  dangerous  remark 
of  Mrs.  McKetchar's  in  time  to  catch  her  eye 
and  by  energetically  shaking  my  he-d,  and  press^ 


The  Necklace  op  Panduka. 


37 


bg  my  finger  on  my  Ups,  succeeded  in  checking 
her  m  full  tide.  * 

Then  I  resumed  the  conversation  in  which  I 
was  engaged  with  pretty  Mrs.  Naylor,  who 
though  still  young  and  charming,  was  beginning 
to  abandon  flirtation  for  the  safer  if  less  en- 
trancing paths  of  gastronomy,  and  who  was  un- 
feignedly  mterested  in  the  subject  of  venison. 
Pretty  soon,  Tom  came  up. 

"Look  here,  old  man,"  said  he,  with  a  serious 
look  on  his  face,  "is  Mrs.  McKetchar  ever— a 
"i^^T""  *"1^*  covertly  tapped  his  forehead. 
Uh,  no,  old  boy,"  I  replied  quickly.  "But 
sometimes  y  know— don't  mention  it— amiable 
weakness— she"-here  I  regret  to  say.  I  imi- 
tated drinking  something  out  of  a  glass. 

Oh,  that's  it!"  said  Tom,  enlightened.  "Ac- 
counts f.n-  her  rummy  manner  at  times— pity!- 
some  one  ought  to  keep  an  eye  on  her  to-night," 
and  Tom  looked  compassionately  back  on  the 
unconscious  Mrs.  McKetchar. 

Then  he  went  on  to  induce  Miss  Helen  See- 
bright  to  come  down  to  the  lake,  and  show  some 
of  the  wild  plawnts  and  flowaws  that  grew 
there,  for  I  am  perfectly  crazy  about  flowaws! 
--wild  flowaws  especially,  Miss  Helen."  (Tom 
knew  a  sunflower  from  a  snowdrop,  and  that  was 
about  all.)  The  young  lady  was  difficile  and  in- 
different at  first,  but  finally  allowed  herself  to  be 
persuaded,  and  they  set  forth.  Perhaps  they 
might  have  selected  a  better  month  than  October 
to  find  wild  flowers.  This  possibly  was  the  rea- 
son why  they  were  so  long  away,  and  why  they 
came  back  long  after  the  moon  had  risen  with- 


58  The  Necklace  of  Panduka. 

out  a  single  specimen.  They  didn't  seem  a  bit 
put  out,  or  disappointed  either.  Just  before  we 
all  retired,  Miss  Seebright  happened  to  be  near 
me  for  a  moment,  while  Mrs.  Naylor  was  sing- 
mg  a  very  "up-to-date  song,"  to  the  enchantment 
of  the  men,  and  the  horror  of  Mrs.  McKetchar. 

"9!V.  ^^'  ^^^"^^^ '"  she  cried,  turning  towards 
me,  I  ve  been  trying  to  speak  to  you  all  the 
evenmg." 

"Oh,  if  I'd  only  known  1"  said  I.  (We  didn't 
like  each  other  much  then,  and  even  an  old 
bachelor  doesn't  like  to  see  the  prettiest  girl  in  the 
district  quite  absorbed  in  his  bosom  friend.) 

'Well,  you  know  now,"  she  said  with  more  as- 
perity than  exactly  suited  her  seraphic  style. 
But  what  I  want  to  find  out  from  you,  Mr. 
Rainald,"  she  continued,  coming  nearer  me  and 
lifting  up  her  eyes  confidingly,  in  quite  her  old 
manner,  "is  whether  the  Rainbow  river  is  safe 
for  canoeing?"  (The  Rainbow  river  was  a 
beautiful  little  stream,  which  ran  into  the  lake, 
withm  five  hundred  yards  of  the  lodge  ) 

"Well,  Miss  Helen,"  I  replied.  'It's  safe  in 
the  sense  that  you  can't  be  drowned  in  it,  for  the 
water  m  it  isn't  more  than  three  or  four  feet 
deep  anywhere,  even  in  the  pool  under  the  falls. 
But  It  s  full  of  rapids,  and  besides,  if  you  didn't 
take  care,  or  couldn't  manage  your  canoe,  you 
might  get  carried  over  the  falls,  just  above  where 
It  empties  into  the  lake.  Then  you'd  have  to  get 
one  of  the  guides  to  track  the  canoe  a  mile  or  two 
up  stream  for  you,  and  float  back,  for  the  cur- 
rent is  too  strong  to  paddle  up  comfortably,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  falls  near  the  mouth  of  the 


The  Necklace  of  Panduka. 


» 


stream.  You  see,  besides,  that  these  falls  are 
just  round  a  curve  of  the  river,  and  you  don't 
realize  what's  up  till  you're  at  the  brink." 

"But,"  she  interrupted,  "I  hear  they  are  only 
about  five  or  six  feet  high,  and  the  water  below 
too  shallow  to  drown  you  if  you  did  go  over." 

"True  enough,"  said  I,  "but  you'd  get  an  awful 
ducking,  to  say  nothing  of  bumps.  I'd  leave 
Rainbow  river  alone,  if  I  were  you.  Miss  Helen, 
while  we're  away,  and  stick  to  the  lake." 

"Oh,  you're  going  away,"  she  said,  after  a  mo- 
ment's deep  reflection.  "Mr.  Dare  and  yourself, 
I  suppose?" 

"Yes,  we  start  to-morrow,"  said  I,  "with  Todd. 
We'll  camp  for  a  week  or  so  some  distance  back 
from  the  lake,  where  the  deer  are  less  disturbed, 
and  leave  Parkes  and  Naylor  to  protect  you  la- 
dies from  wolves  and  things." 

"Dare's  red  hot  about  it,"  I  added,  "avec  inten- 
tion." 

"Indeed!"  she  said  very  slowly.  "Are  you 
quite  sure  Mr.  Dare  will  start  with  you  to-mor- 
row ?" 

"Quite!"  I  said,  with  emphasis.  "Why,  he's 
been  talking  of  nothing  else  all  day  I" 

She  slightly  raised  her  eyebrows. 

"How  charming  to  have  such  a  devotion  to  any 
pursuit!  My  'Gun  to  me  a  kingdom  is!'  and 
Mr.  Dare  talks  of  nothing  else.  How  funny! 
But  I  see  Mrs.  Naylor  has  finished  her  song,  so 
we  women  must  be  off  to  bed,  and  so  must  you, 
if  you're  going  to  start  so  very  early  in  the  morn- 
ing.   Good-night !" 

She  laughed  musically,  and  vanished.    I  hadn't 


40  The  Necklace  of  Pandusa. 

tiie  least  idea  what  the  young  lady  was  driving  at 
during  this  conversation  of  ours.  I  soon  found 
out 

"Look  here,  Tom !"  said  I,  as  soon  as  we  were 
alone  together  for  a  single  pipe  in  the  smoking 
room  before  turning  in.  "f  think  it's  better  to 
get  off  about  five  to-morrow,  or  before,  if  we 
can.  There's  no  wind  then.  It  gets  up  with  the 
sun,  and  we've  a  good  way  down  the  lake  to  go. 

^ju*,,,^**^  ^°*^  '"  *«  canoe-  I  told  Todd 
and  he  11  attend  to  the  packing,  but  you  must  try 
and  lug  yourself  up  early." 
1  ^°.  *ny /mazement,  mtsead  of  the  delighted 
alacrity  I  d  expected,  Dare  showed  positive  signs 
of  uneasmess— I  might  almost  say— of  guilt  He 
got  up  walked  to  the  fireplace,  lit  a  match,  ap- 
plied it  to  his  nose,  instead  of  his  cigar,  dropped 
Jt  in  a  hurry,  lit  another,  failed  to  get  a  liSt 
agam,  then  turned  to  me  at  last,  and  delivered  tiic 
followmg  astounding  sentiments: 

'See  here,  old  fellow  I  Don't  be  in  a  wax.  But 
---«r--I  really— er— hardly  think  we'd  bettaw 
stawt  to-morrow— day  aftaw  if  you  like— ye  see 
--ladies  m  the  pawty.  Must  show  them  some 
attention— cawn't  rush  off  befaw  sunrise,  as  if 
we  wanted  to  get  rid  of  the  very  sight  of  them." 
T  1  ,  ®  f/®  beautiful  sentiments,  Tom,"  replied 
I,  slowly,  and  do  you  credit,  but  I've  heard  you 
quite  lately  express  rather  different  ones.  May 
I  ask  if  your  unusual  remarks  to-night  are  oriei- 
nal  or  suggested?"  «=  w"gi 

Tom  looked  more  confused  than  ever  "Look 
here,  old  man  I"  he  burst  out,  "I  may  as  well  con- 
fess.   I  don  t  know  exactly  how  it  happened,  but 


The  Necklace  of  Panduka.  41 

L^VS?*!^^  Seebright  to  let  me  paddle 
ISem^'^       "*"  ""^'^  '"  ""y  ""°*  to-morrow 

"Oh,  that's  itf"  said  I. 

"Ya-as,"  said  Tom.  "I  don't  know  exactly 
how  I  came  to  awsk  her,  but  I  did.  D'  you  know  ^ 
he  oontmued,  fixing  his  large,  round  eyes  sol- 
emnly upon  me.    "D'  you  know,  old  man.^for  the 

s2LSh."irH'^''  ^,^/?  ^'"  ^"^««  ^i«»  Miss 
S««bnght,  I  find  myself  in  the  presence  of  a  su- 
perior wtellect  to  my  own?" 
;;You  don't  say  so  I"  said  I. 

«r.W'?^^*'^A«^*J  ^^"''  **•"  ''«P"«d  the  "ncon- 
IS  °"?-  I^^  *J*"  ^^«'^  so  chawming!"  he 
added,  gazing  dreamUy  at  the  embers.  "S6  love- 
ly !— so  perfect  in  every  way  I—so " 

But  I  wasn't  going  to  stand  that  sort  of  thing 

S  h*««y/"*'  '°  ^L^^^«  'r^'"  "t°  be  sure  tolte 
r^.    i  /°l°"''  f  b°°*  *h«  <^ay  after  to-morrow, 
I  departed  abruptly,  and  left  him  still  gazing  a 
the  fire,  m  what  seemed  to  me  a  very  ominous 

Syourow?*  ""'°  '^^^^'^  ^^'^  ^  ---" 
^  ^ll  i"^the  afternoon  of   the   next   day— the 
day,  that  but  for  Tom's  sudden  change  of  front 
would  have  seen  us  far  in  the  woods!  perchance 

ot  stealthy  approach,  with  the  maddening  pros- 
pect of  seemg  a  great  buck  standing  in  full  view 
when  we  peered  over  the  top_I  wis  lying  uS 
a  rock  below  the  falls  of  Rai'nSw  river!  smoki^g^ 
Id  gone  there  to  do  nothing,  and  was  doing  k 
t^LT^-   ^^.'^.^d  disinclined  for  compLy 
In  short,  bemg  m  that  frame  of  mind,  which  in  a 


MiiiJMiiiaik 


4*  Tbs  Nbcxlacb  or  Pandura. 

person  of  genius  or  importance  is  called  ab- 
stracted, and  in  an  ordinary  person— sulky.  I'd 
forffotten  all  about  Tom  and  Miss  Seebright— 
and  pretty  much  everything  else,  fc  I  believe  I 
was  going  off  into  a  gentle  doze,  when  I  was 
roused  by  hearing  a  stentorian  bellowing,  which 
gradually  resolved  itself  into  an  attempt  on  the 
gurt  of  some  one  to  sing  "The  Canadian  Boat 

"Row,  brothaws,  row  I  The  stream  runs  fawst— 
The  rapids  aw  neah,  and  the  daylight's  pawstl" 

»me  by  no  means  faintly  on  the  evening  breeze. 
My  first  thought  was  that  the  criminal  who  was 
murderm^  the  melody  could  be  no  other  than 
Dare,  takmg  Miss  Seebright  out  for  that  canoe 
nde  on  the  river  which  he'd  spoken  of;  and  my 
second— which  brought  me  to  my  feet  in  an  in- 
stant—was that  he  must  be  uncommonly  near 
the  brink  of  the  falls.  I  scrambled  up  the  steep 
litOe  ridge  of  rocks  over  which  the  stream  fell, 
and  the  moment  I  put  my  head  over  the  top  of 
It— a  pretty  sight  greeted  me. 

Just  rounding  the  last  curve  of  the  little  river, 
and  already  hopelessly  in  the  suck  of  the  current 
that  swept  over  the  pretty  little  falls,  was  Tom's 
canoe.  Miss  Helen  Seebright  was  in  the  bow, 
redmmg  tranquilly,  facing  Dare— her  back  to  the 
danger,  listening  to  the  dulcet  tones  of  her  ad- 
mirer, who  was  paddling  astern.  He  was  just 
remarking  again,  tunefully,  "Row,  brothaws, 
row!  the  stream  runs  fawsti"  when  I  roared  out: 
Paddle    for    the    bank— hard,    you    idiot  T 


The  Necklace  of  Panduka. 


43 


(There  was  no  time  for  ceremony.)     "Quick! 
or  youni  be  over!"  '  '      wui«i 

Miss  Seebright  turned  round,  saw  the  danger 
and  with  the  promptitude  and  presence  of  mmd 
characteristic  of  her  sex  on  similar  occasions, 
completely  destroyed  their  last  chance,  by  throw- 
ing her  arms  round  Tom  with  a  wild  scream, 
thus  rendering  him  perfectly  helpless. 

The  <anoe  dashed  wildly  on,  stuck  at  the  very 
brmk  of  the  falls  with  a  sharp  jerk  (the  water 
was  quite  shallow)  and    delivered    them    both 
neatly  into  the  pool  below  with  a  plop  I— plop! 
that  sounded  exactly  like  two  frogs  plunging 
into  a  marsh  only  much  louder.    It  was  a  tragic 
sight,  and  I  nearly  choked    with    emotion-^r 
somethmg  else— as  I  tore  down  the  slope,  "to 
pick  up  the  pieces."    Quick  as  I  was,  when  I  ar- 
rived, Tom  Dare,  decorated  with    a    beautiful 
black  eye,  the  result  of  contact  with  a  boulder, 
was  wadmg  ashore,  bearing  the  drenched,  but 
lovely  form  of  Miss  Helen,  whose  beautiful  gold- 
en hair  (all  her  own)  had  come  down,  and  did 
not  render  her  by  any  means  less  attractive.  She 
seemed  pretty  self-possessed,  too,  considering,  for 
I  heard  her  tell  Tom  as  I  came  up  "that  he  had 
saved  her    and  that  "he  was  a  hero !"    She  then 
however    became  quite  faint,  and  Tom  had  to 
support  her  again.    So,  as  there  was  no  time  to 
be  lost  after  the  drenching  they'd   had,   I   sug- 
gested that  Tom  should  get  the  lady  home  as 
quickly  as  possible,  while  I  tried  to  fish  out  their 
canoe  for  them.    You  see,  I  had  an  idea  that  they 
could  do  without  my  help,  or  company. 
Accordingly,  off  they  set— Tom  supporting  the 


44  Tbk  Necklace  OF  Panduia. 

guwhed  eye  wjth  swret  conldencc.    I  was  «  iSg 

i™*S*-'^c**t'  r"^  °"*'  »»'l  when  I  «5 
home.  Miss  Seebn-ht  had  been  put  to  bed.  Md 
was  bemg  attended  to  by  all  th?  ladies  o  a2 
pai^  en  masse."  !  .as  sitting  alone  in  the 
smokmg  room,  wa  n  i<  n,  who  had  changed  his 

startlmg  propor  , .  w.  tdered  in.  There  was 
a  dreamy  ecstai  c,>  i,  his  sound  eye.  S? 
went  to  my  heart  '  '        ' 

"By  Joyel  old  i;  - ;   ,„.  i^,„   rasping  my 
unresponsive  haral    vV.  r  ,   .   .,  .  gg^jlJ^f 

"For  getting  t!u.  Macl-    >  •  '  I  r<^1S[  i^J, 
you're  easily  pleast :."  *^  * 

He  glowered  at  me  a  i,>.  nent.     "I'd  take  a 
miHion  black  eyes  -fifty  nniiion  black  eyes-to 

*^"0?V,7«S/?  T'.^r^^y^'  ^'  "Claimed. 
Oh   I  understand,  old  boy  I"  said  I,  seeing  it 

sSbrilh7'''r.;?J""!i  T^Hl^-ng^^dtoMiss 
A!fi^^  L  I'^^^y.  ^°^^  Congratulate  you!" 
And  we  shook  hands  again  wamily 

Ya-as  myboy.  How  clevah  you  are  to  iruess 
It  so  quicldy  I  And  d'  you  know,  your  venffim 
remawk  showed  great  penetration.  That  black 
eye"  (he  surveyed  it  in  the  looking  glass  wi?h 
deep  and  appreciative  interest)  "wasfso  to  so^lc 
the  lucky  stah  of  my  life."  '**^' »«  ^  speak, 

Helen  told  me,"  he  continued  with  a  .slio-l,*. 
frown,  "that  she  had  nevah  dreamS  of  mi'^J^ 
anyone  as  a  lovah ;  but  that  my  reckless  heroism 

completely  conquered  her  heart.    Made  her  f^ 


tMM  NicKLAci  or  PAMmnu.  41 

ux  cawse  l  didn  t  think  it  necessary  to  teU  her 

^'  ^Ti  "^H*  «»'y  *»«««  thri  feet  dee^' 
and  lookh«ah,oldnuml  Keep  dark  about  tiS 
j^~i  mean— don  t  volunUak  anything  about 

tr^  w«  oven       ''^'*^'  ^''''  ^  "^  ^''^  **""^»« 

.  S^rv'i''"  ^^^^^  afterwards,  for  It  turned  out 
L«!  L^^^  mamage.  Mrs.  Tom  Dare,  be- 
sides bemg  pretty,  was  clever;  so  she  aUiwed 
her  husband  all  the  shooting  he  could  ^ss7wy 
H^r:/**"?  ^^  *  ^"^  ^**>  to  do  with  the  un- 
llfe  fJS"  1  ""^^'^'n^,  ^'"C'ty  of  their  nuptial 
hfc  Foolish  women  often  interfere  with  a  hu^- 
l«nds  favorite  pursuit,  just  because  it  is  his 
favorite  pursuit.    Qever  women  never  do. 

1  have  saicf  Mrs.  Dare  was  clever,  but  I  never 
knew  how  ckver  she  was  till  she  vouchsafed  mc 
a  glance  into  the  depths  of  her  intellect,  neariy 

mTwYtSlw^e'!''  ""^  "''•^  "^"^^^'  -^^^^^^ 

"Do  you  remember,  Mr.  Rainald,"  she  said  as 

we  were  sitting  in  her  cosy  drawbg  roo^^^e 

before  the  day  I  got  engaged  to  Tom  that  the 
wa  er  was  only  three  feet  deep  anywherein  the 

t^'^^J^ll^-      ^  Y^  ^^  ^"^^^°-  ^h^nSd  to 
days.)  ^"^  °^  ^^""^   P^"^^^"*    Muskoka 

"Of  course  I  do,"  I  said,  "and  I've  often  won- 
dered why  you  asked  me." 
"Well,  you  see,  Mr.  Rainald,"   replied   Mrs. 


4S 


The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 


Dare,  looking  at  me  over  her  fan  in  a  peculiarly 
arch  and  roguish  way.  "You  see,  I'd  got  to  like 
Tom  very  much,  and  I  knew  he  liked  me,  too; 
but  he  was  so  stupid  and  slow — ^and  we  hadn't 
long  to  stay— and  you  two  were  going  off  on 
that  horrid  shooting  trip  next  morning— when 
you  told  me  that.  So  I  thought  a  little  shock, 
you  know,  might  wake  Tom  up.  Bring  him  to 
the  pomt,  as  it  were.  Dear  old  Tom's  as  blind  as 
a  bat,  and  I  knew  he  wouldn't  see  the  rapids  till 
It  was  all  up,  or  rather  down  with  us,  you  know. 
So  I  risked  it !" 

Here  her  infant  began  howling  up  stairs,  and 
she  rushed  off,  leaving  me  thinking  very  deeply. 


The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 


4Z 


EVERY  YEAR. 
(A  Tale  of  Northern  Quebec 

It  was  in  this  way  that  my  friend,  Donald 
Mcintosh,  a  Scotch  barrister,  whom  I  had  long 
kno\yn  and  valued  for  his  clear  intellect  and 
sterlmg  qualities,  came  to  relate  the  stranee  tale 
I  now  set  down  on  paper. 

I  must  say  here  that  the  very  practical  nature 
tn\n  e'^*''-"«a<Jed  common  sense  of  the  man  who 

rnalr/^"''*"*'*^'*  ""^  °^  '*^  ^'■"th'  and  caused  it  to 
maice  a  G^^p  impression  on  me. 

one   ni^hrU^°'''"^  ®"''  ^'^^  '"  ^X  "«!«  Study 

chanced  to  r^    ^'"'    ^«^°'    *^^    conversatioi 
Sh  Li  «.         7-'°"^^    mysterious    murders 
Td  S?af.«  =  Tfif^*^  '"  ''"'°^'    parts  of  the  Unit- 
ct^TlIf'/^  *^^  Perpeti^ors  of  which  had  es- 
?Zt  ni  I'^'^^^'-y  r  the  pau  of  the  authorities, 
wrke  this         ^         '  '■^'"^"'  '-/steries  while  I 
As  we  spoke  of  the  complete  manner  in  which 
the  pohce  had  been  baffled  in  their  attempts  to 
trace  these  crimes    home    to    their    authors     I 
chanced  to  make  the  trite  remark.  "That  perhaps 
half  or  more  of  the  murders  that  were  committed 
each  year  escaped  detection,  and  that   the   oft- 
heard  saying,  "Murder  will  out,"  was  one  of  the 
most  conspicuous  of  popular  fallacies." 


48 


IThe  Necklace  or  Panduka. 


I  don  t  know  about  that,"  said  Mcintosh,  very 
seriously.  "The  justice  of  man  the  murderer 
may  escape  perhaps,  but  I  am  well  inclined  to 
thmk  that  there  is  a  deep  and  terrible  truth  con- 
tomed  m  a  sentence  written  by  Charles  Dickens: 

Lrt  no  man  talk  of  murderers  escaping  justice, 
and  hmt  that  Providence  must  sleep  I  There 
were  twenty  score  of  violent  deaths  in  one  long 
mmute  of  the  murderer's  agony  of  fear  I'  And 
this  agony  of  fear,  mind  you,"  he  continued, 

was  an  agony  caused  by  direct  supernatural  ter- 
I°V«^o^^  ^*^'  ^y  "°  imaginative  criminal,  but 
by  Bill  Sykes,  one  of  the  most  callous  and  brutal 
of  ruinans. 

"No  doubt  there's  something  in  what  you  say. 
old  man,  replied  I,  "though  it  surprises  me  tO 
hear  a  lawyer  and  man  of  the  world  take  tw  Tine 
you  do.  \ou  must  know  by  experienr*  that  con- 
science is  lost— absolutely  gone — i«  many  crimi- 

f'r  ^^^"  *^*  approach  of  dea^J  finds  many  a 
malefactor  and  athiest  with  p  vronscience  as  com- 
fortably callous  as  the  hi«te  of  a  rhinocerous.  Af- 
ter all,  it's  pretty  muc*  a  matter  of  temperament." 
"In  the  case  of  «imor  sins — ^perhaps,  yes,"  said 
Mcintosh,  slo'vty  and  thoughtfully,  "but  in  the 
case  of  wiurder,  or  some  such  deadly  crime  I'm 
inclined  to  think  that  some  influence  works  on  the 
mitted  I"       "^^*'^'  ^""^"^  outside— something  per- 

"Oh,  come,"  I  said,  laughing.     "You're  not 

gomg  to  bring  up  the  old   superstition   of  the 

murdered  man  hunting  the  murderer  to  justice?" 

Old  and  universal  superstitions,    .s  you  call 

them,  common  to  all  races,  mind  you,"  said  Mo 


Thb  Necklace  of  Panduka. 


Intosh,  "have  great  elements  of  truth  in  them. 
Look  here,"  he  continued,  after  a  short  pause. 
"Once  I  thought  pretty  much  as  you  do  about 
these  things,  but  years  ago  a  strange  and  dread- 
ful case  came  under  my  own  personal  notice, 
which  changed  forever  my  views  on  this  subject. 
I  have  never  spoken  to  anyone,  even  to  yourself, 
about  it,  for  many  reasons.  But  all  concerned  in 
the  affair  are  now  dead,  and  it  can  do  no  harm 
to  speak  of  it.  It  is  very  strange,  and  remem- 
ber, so  true  and  terrible  that  I  almost  fear  to  re- 
call it,  even  to  you.  Would  you  like  to  hear  the 
story?" 

"Go  on,"  said  I. 

"It  was  in  the  early  part  of  May,  1878;"  said 
Mcintosh,  "that  I  was  making  my  way  home 
from  a  short  trout  fishing  expedition,  varied  by 
a  turn  at  the  onananiche  in  far  Nortiiem  Quebec, 
to  a  little  French  village  from  which  I  had  set 
out  into  the  bush,  and  whence  I  meant  to  return 
to  the  City  of  Quebec.  I  had  one  guide  with  me, 
Francois  Le  Maitre,  a  French  'habitant,'  as  were 
all  the  inhabitants  of  this  wild  region,  and  a  good 
fellow,  as  most  of  them  are.  We  w-  .bout 
eight  miles  from  the  village  at  sunset,  and  being 
tired  out  with  portages  and  with  steermg  down 
a  swift,  dangerous  current,  Francois  and  I 
pulled  out  our  canoe  at  a  good  spot,  and  went 
into  camp. 

"It  was  twilight  by  the  time  we  had  pitched 
our  tent,  and  had  supper,  but  Frangois,  who  had 
been  much  opposed  to  our  camping  at  all,  to  my 
utter  amazement,  wished  to  push  on  to  the  vil- 
lage, although  there  was  a  bad  rapid  on  the  way. 


so 


The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 


to  run  which  in  the  dark  would  have  meant  an 
almost  certain  smash  up. 

"After  supper  he  literally  petrified  me  by  re- 

whTi"^^v,S''  '*'*"''''  *°,>^  °"'-*°  P"«h  ahead 
W„i  i  ^  ."^^^  ^"y  "&h*  *t  a"-  Finally  he 
blurted  out,  'to  move  further  from  here ' 

fhJji^l^f']'^  F^  ^*  ^'^  motives,  try  all  I  could, 
IJ~/  ^  i^*'  ""J^^''  '*'"°"8:  pressure,  he  mut- 
tered something  about  the  place  where  we  were 
l^m  mo/m/  ,....  'evil'-'uncanny/  I  tried  hard 
to  get  something  more  out  of  him,  for  I  knew 

rJL^rl  n/T'!i!''°"'^'°*.*^^  simple-minded  voy- 
tSZu  ^orthem  Quebec  were  at  times.  But 
'niS^'^'^^''  r^  frightened,  he  refused  to  be 

tS?lif  *°  ^!  *^^"'^  °^  ^'^  ^^^.  and  at  last 
turned  sullen   and  went  and  shut  himself  up  in 

n^  f£"''  ^'  'i^^  ^'*"^"y  ^^^'^^  to  look  abroad 
?n  lit  ^Til7^'■u  ^'^  ^^'^-  ^^  ^^  '•o"ed  himself 
m  his  blankets,  he  said  something  that  sounded 

?the  S^R^'-^^^i  ^^  something  more  bad 

Ihe  dirk  r  *^"  '^°°*'"^  ^  '*P»^  ^" 

"I  saw  that  the  man    was    really    frijrhtened 

ducff^F^'^^^'-  ^°  '  ^e^^^^«  "^"^  unusifalTon 
.r?Vi       ^''^"^°''  ^^'  ^tl'  »  l>'-ave  and  a  civil 
and  clever  gu.de.    So  I  let  him   alone,   lit   mv 

wa^ViW  T°"  •'  'r"  *°  ^  "^^^  ^^  the  moo^ 
was  rising  leaving  him  to  sleep  if  he  could. 

snarklW  ^rT  ^'^'^Kout  over  the  beautiful 
sparklmg  stream  and  the  vast  barren  wilderness 
of  rocks  and  forest  beyond  for  some  ten  o™fif! 

rL'",Z?rV''l"K*^!["  ^.^^  ^  '^'Sht  crackling 
L^  c^  ^™^\l>y  tl^e  river,  and  a  rolling  of 
loo^e  stones,  and  there  stepped  out  into  the  little 


The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 


SI 


elevated  open  space  where  I  stood — a  man.  The 
moonlight  was  clear  in  the  little  open  space,  and 
as  he  came  close  to  me  I  could  see  him  dis- 
tinctly. He  was  a  French  'habitant,'  evidently  a 
resident  of  the  district,  dressed  in  homespun 
clothes,  and  he  moved  steadily  on,  as  one  who 
knew  his  way,  and  had  an  object  in  his  journey. 

"You  know  the  backwoods  saying,  'Every  man 
is  a  friend  in  the  woods,'  so  I  stepped  forward  to 
greet  him,  and  then  I  saw  his  face !  It  was  not 
a  bad  face — rather  an  intellectual  one  for  a  man 
of  his  class — ^but  there  was  a  look  on  it  that 
would  have  made  you  pick  it  out  at  once  from  a 
crowd  of  a  thousand  others.  There  was  a  look 
of  dread,  but  above  all,  a  look  of  expectation  of 
some  horror  to  come  upon  it;  with  a  sort  of  set 
determination  about  it,  too,  which  I  know  affected 
me  with  a  strange  feeling  that  was  very  like  fear, 
and  yet  had  pity  for  the  man  in  it,  too. 

"I  felt  a  similar  mixture  of  repugnance  and 
pity  once  for  a  murderer  whom  I  saw  brought 
out  to  be  hanged  whose  nerve  had  failed  him 
and  who  saw  before  him  a  horror  he  had  no 
strength  to  endure. 

"I  shook  off  the  feeling  with  some  self-con- 
tempt, and  spoke  to  the  man. 

"  'Bon  soir,  mon  ami.  You  travel  late.  I'm 
camped  close  to  here.  You'd  better  turn  in  with 
us  till  morning.  This  is  a  poor  country  for  night 
walking.'    He  started  slightly. 

"'Bon  soir  m'  sieu,'  he  replied  in  a  strange, 
strained  voice,  like  one  suppressing  some  strong 
emotion.  'Non  m'sieu,  I  cannot  wait.  I  cannot 
Stop.    Not  an  hour,  not  an  instant!    I  am  ex- 


1 


S«  The  Necklace  of  Panduia. 

look  ^fo-  .-r J  "SL'V  ?»  ^^  """w  y« 

me  shrink  frin  toaMLTm^'''''  **»«  "»* 
Witt  hto-,  mJSn.Slen"^"'  """  ""^"S 

found  Francois  awaL  L!5  ?"'^°'"°««-  I 
see  me,  I'^Safed'^/^^d^lS^^'^g^-'  *° 
sprang  uistanUy  to  liis  feet  clateSiH:  „  ^™'«».'» 
his  strong  ajritetion  'Ah  M„  •  ^  K  """  ■" 
literally  sta,S,S  whh'frirtf?'/  ■"  "^^^ 

puce.    EcoSL^^^S:„r&^"S'4',S 


The  Necklace  or  Pandoka. 


53 


lag  his  voice  and  looking  all  about  him  as  one 
who  feared  invisible  listeners.  'Pierre  La  Rose 
is  a  murderer  I  Worse  I  Le  Bon  Dieu  has  per- 
mitted that  at  this  time  of  the  year — the  time  of 
his  cripie — he  shall  be  under  the  power  of  the 
evil  soul  of  his  victim  or  of  some  bad  spirit.  He 
is  drawn  to  meet  him,  he  says,  at  the  spot  where 
he  slew.  Let  us  go,  monsieur,  a  I'instant,  lest  we 
meet  La  Rose  again— and  that  other!' 

"  'Come,  man,'  I  said,  seeing  the  habitant  was 
getting  frantic  with  terror,  'this  will  never  do. 
Murderer  or  not,  the  man  is  crazy,  and  ought  to 
be  coaxed,  or  if  necessary,  brought  back  by  force 
to  St.  R^i.  Where  is  he  going?  What  mur- 
der did  he  commit?   And  when?' 

"  'He  is  going,  monsieur,'  said  Francois,  more 
composedly,  but  shivering  and  speakmg  low,  'to 
a  place  not  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  here,  up  the 
river.  Ah,  mon  dieu!  So  close,  so  close!  A 
wild  spot  amidst  great  rocks,  where  the  deed  was 
done.  There  he  meets  that  evil  thing.  As  for 
the  murder,  monsieur,  it  was  thus.  If  I  tell  you, 
will  you  come  away — ^at  once?' 

"  'I'll  see,'  said  I. 

"'Bieu,  monsieur!  This  night  of  May,  the 
twelfth,  three  years  ago,  this  Pierre  La  Rose  and 
his  'camarade,'  Jean  Thibeault,  were  passing  that 
place  I  spoke  of  on  their  way  back  to  St.  Remi 
from  a  trapping  and  fishing  trip.  Pierre  was 
jrentile,  gallant,  bon  garcon  then,  beloved  by  all. 
Jean  Thibeault  sullen,  ill  conditioned,  a  vile 
tongue  about  women,  enfin — ^a  brute.  He  was  a 
stranger  in  the  district,  but  already  had  an  evil 
name.    There  was  bad  blood,  too,  between  the 


54  Thb  Necklace  of  Panduia. 

niwon  account  of  Josephine  Dupont,  to  whom 
Pierre  was  affianced;  and  whom  Jean  was  pui^ 
suing  to  win  away  from  him— as  Pierre  knew— 
mdeed,  Jean  made  no  secret  of  it. 

.^IZ!""-!^*^'^^^™*'  ^  ^«  was— was  hand- 
!SS^*"r..*^"''^T'^y  ^^***  *^»ngs  to  a  silly  girl 
when  he  liked.  It  seems  they  had  quarrelled  on 
the  way  about  her.  Enfin,  monsieur,  they  were 
passing  that  place.  Pierre  slipped  off  a  high 
S  ;,1Xi  V°^f  ^'''  ^%  Ix^tweeS  knee  and  ankfe 
S^3  c  °J^*",'-  r°,  ^**  '"  ^'•ont.  Jean 
tamed,  saw  his  plight,  laughed  and  passed  on. 
As  he  went,  he  looked  round  and  said,  'Lie 
there,  maladroit,  till  you  are  found.  I  go  to  com- 
xort  Josephme. 

wli  ^^%^*  "^^  '"  '*™*s*'  <"•  meant  only  a 
brutal  jest,  I  know  not,  but  Pierre's  French 
blood  was  m  flames. 

his  face,  shot  below  the  shoulder  blade.  A  party 
coming  up  the  river  some    days    after,    found 

hTZ^  A^u'^l-^'^"''  recovered  Ms  mind, 
he  confessed  aU  this  to  Pere  La  Loude,  ou^ 
pnest,  a  good  man  and  a  wise— and  when  his 
punishment  came  upon  him,  others  knew.' 

u^^  '  !^^l  ""  *^^  "^'"^  °^  Heaven,'  said  I,  my 
legal  instincts  getting  the  better  of  me.  'wasn't 

Hnn'^fv  t''?!'^'^*,?J"«*'^e  ^or  the  murder?  I 
don  t  think  It  could  be  made  out  anything  more 
than  manslaughter.  I'd  swear  that  few  juries 
would  convict  him  of  murder,  though  therirno 

^^^^Z^:,^^  ^-^  -^  '^  -a- 


The  Necklace  of  Panduka. 


55 


«<i 


'Monsieur,  the  place  was  far  away  from  civ- 
ilization. La  Rose's  parents  were  respected  and 
liked.  He  had  many  friends  and  relatives,  and 
we  had  no  wish  to  see  one  of  our  small  com- 
munity die  a  disgraceful  death.  And  as  for  Thi- 
beault,  he  was  hated.  Besides,  Pere  La  Loude 
said,  no— even  when  Pierre  wished  to  give  him- 
self up  to  escape  the  evil  thing  that  called  him — 
called  him — always  to  the  wo<^s  when  the  day  of 
his  crime  came  round.  Why  we  know  not,  but 
the  priest  knew  more  than  we,  and  he  was  the 
servant  of  God.  'Assez !'  So  poor  Josephine  Du- 
pont  entered  the  Convent  of  the  Ursulines  at 
Quebec' 

"  'Pierre  lived  on  among  us,  broken,  pale, 
heart-stricken.  He  did  good,  helped  all  men,  was 
much  with  the  good  priest. 

"  'But  wh4 .1  the  first  anniversary  of  his  crime 
came  near,  a  strange  terror — a.  relentless  horror 
— came  over  him.' 

"  'He  said  Thibeault  called  him  to  the  woods 
to  meet  him  where  they  were  found,  and  there 
was  something  so  awful  in  his  terror,  monsieur, 
that  men  feared  to  speak  with  him.  The  first 
time,  the  priest  took  him  to  the  church  on  the 
evening  of  the  twelfth  of  May,  meaning  to  pass 
the  dreaded  night  with  him  in  prayer ;  but  when 
two  of  our  elder  men,  whom  the  father  had 
askjfl  to  join  in  their  prayers,  came  later  on,  they 
found  the  accursed  one  gone,  and  the  priest  lay 
insensible  before  the  altar. 

"  'Then  all  the  parish  said  that  the  good  God 
must  have  permitted  the  evil  spirit  to  have  power 
for  a  time,  or  he  could  never  have  drawn  Pierre 


^         The  Nbcxlack  or  Panduia. 

'*w  I?*  *^*"'    ^"^  **  P'^*  °*^**'  •?<*«  o* 

WIMi  lie  SftW> 

fi^lV"".!?^  ***?r  i?"**"  followed  him  the  next 
I  *?  *?.*  *^^  *^**'  *n<*  <=«»«  back  again  in 
such  deadly  terror  that  they  went  awi?  from 
their  native  district  to  the  settlements.  They 
would  only  say  that  Pierre  talked  with  the  lort 
soul  of  Jean  Thibeault  of  impious  and  awful 
things.  So  It  IS  ever,  monsieur  1  When  Pierre 
wanders  back  from  these  meetings,  he  is  mad— 

!?%iT*ni"'*.  "^",and  cries  to  God  for  mer- 
cy, tiU  he  faUs  mto  a  long  swoon,  out  of  which 
he  comes  sane,  but  more  broken,  nearer  his  grave 
than  before.  Voik  tout  I  And  now,  momieur 
partonsf    For  the  love  of  God,  let  us  iol' 

1  i?l°"?''  ^f:*np«»'  ««i  I.  for  I  l»d  got  my 
pluck  back  agam  by  now;  'the  poor  fellow's  a 
monomaniac,  that's  all,  and  should  be  brought 
bade  at  once,  before  exposure  kills  him,  as  it 

Ilfjr"*L°'  ^''  ^^  ^'"  ^"«  *°  do  it- 
Allons,  mon  gar^on,  du    courage  1     You're   a 

brave  fellow  enough.  Why,  I've  seen  you  face 
tne  Charge  of  a  bull  moose  without  taking  die 
pipe  out  of  your  mouth.  Come  along  I  Wa 
have  La  Rose  in  camp  here  m  less  than  half  an 
hour. 

^  iTV  r^°*  ^?'"  i^  ^^  "<»«y  in  its  banks 
e^rlhin   r  *°  ^^^'"'^  ^*  "****  ^' 

^."'^^y*  *en,'  I  said,  really  angry  at  his  super- 
stition, and  coyer  your  head  with  your  blanket 
while  I  go  and  fetch  him.'  ^ 

"The  poor  feUow  still  tried  to  stop  me,  but  I 


Tn  NccKLACi  OP  Panduba.  ff 

thook  him  off,  and  set  out  for  die  friaee  lie  had 
designated— a  little  d^turbed  in  mind,  but  quite 
determined,  and  «<  irtt  irom  fear  as  you  are 
now. 

"I  SOP-  found  the  place.  There  was  no  mis- 
takins  it  A  desolate,  open  space,  strewn  with 
meat  rocks,  no  growth  of  tree  or  bush  on  it,  save 
here  and  there  a  stunted  pine  tree,  showing  blade 
agaiart  the  night  sky.  'One  might  almost  say,' 
■ays  Victor  Hugo,  'that  some  places  are  criminal.' 
This  looked  like  one  of  them. 

"Crouched  together  on  a  large  flat  rock  in  the 
midst  of  this  space,  was  the  man  for  whom  I 
sought 

"He  was  talking  aloud  at  intervals  in  a  strange, 
unearthly,  high-pitched  voice.  Every  word  he 
said  was  distinctly  audible  where  I  stood ;  and  his 
words— and  still  more — a  certain  dreadful  at- 
mosphere of  horror  and  despair  that  seemed  to 
surround  him,  and  to  emanate  from  him,  filled 
me  with  such  a  thrill  of  deadly  terror  as  I  have 

never  felt  before  or  since.    Raving— screaming 

cursing— all  the  extravagances  of  ordinary  de- 
mentia I  had  been  prepared  for,  but  this  man's 
madness— if  madness  it  was— impressed  me  as  be- 
mg  the  strangest  and  most  awful  I  had  ever  seen 
or  heard  of.  He  seemed  to  be  carrying  on  a  con- 
versation or  dialogue  with  some  invisible  bemg— 
dreaded,  hated,  yet  withstood  and  resisted. 

Often  he  would  say:  'You  cannot  always 
have  power;  God  will  save  me  at  last!'  Then  a 
P*|«e-  'Yes,  I  will  name  him!'  Another  inter- 
val. Then  with  quick  horror,  'Curse  God  and 
be  at  rest  from  your  torments  ?    Never  1  Though 


if 


SS^ST"'^ 


■^f""" 


«•  Tme  NicKLACi  or  Paudctu. 

Sii^lfE'a^^r?  I  not  deny  him/     Then 

:^:^£;^t  *'  ^  *' "-  -  '«' 

»»l.^.*!!*  "l?  ""'''I'  »  '"<•*"  overwhelming 
»«»«  of  .  malignant  hostile  p„„„ce  drawinf 

n«w  and  nearer  to  me.  and  a  .wift  intermS 

w«niing  of  unmment  danger— danger  to  mvself 

liir^SraT  "'  "'*  *  '°""**'  cIesLy.Vnc"  e 

m7J!?  •"'!*i**''A^**'  *°  **«P«  *«'«>"'  that  place 
ray  only  mstinct.    One  glance  at  my  face  when 

snatched  our  rifles,  packs  and  so  forth,  rushed 
down  to  the  nver,  and  launching  our  can;)e,  were 

rapid,  risked  in  the  night  in  comparison  with 
what  was  bchmd  us  in  that  accursedSace  of  fear 
that  we  had  left.  We  scraped  through  som^' 
how,  and  reached  St  Remi  liefore  mor^ng 

"As  soon  as  it  was  practicable,  I  sought  Pire 
U  Loude.  and  told  him  all  that  I  had  feSi^S 

:.h3M°"°'^'**'*^  ?"  Francois  had  told  me,  and 
added  this  curious  theory  of  his  own:  'With  re- 
gard to  this  unhappy  man,  it  may  be  that  the 
good  God  has  permitted  an  evU  spirit  to  have 


The  Nscklace  of  PANmnu. 


59 


power  owr  him  for  a  time,  in  order  thtt  his 
great  sin  may  be  all— or  in  part — expiated  here, 
and  so  he  be  spared  much  hereafter. 

"  'You  know,'  he  said,  with  a  slight  smite,  'we 
of  the  old  church  believe  in  purgatory ;  that  is,  in 
expiation  of  our  sin.>^  after  death,  followed  by 
ultimate  salvation.  If  hereafter,  why  not  some- 
times here?  All  places  and  times  are  the  same 
to  God.' 

"More  than  a  year  after  I  received  a  letter 
from  Pere  La  Loude,  a  paragraph  from  which 
might  interest  you.    He  wrote  thus : 

'  'Poor  Pierre  La  Rose  died  some  days  ago,  in 
consequence  of  the  exhaustion  which  always  fol- 
lowed his  strange  yearly  visits  to  the  scene  of  his 
crime.  He  died  penitent — hopeful — a  ul  T  trust — 
redeemed.  But  for  all  that,  till  the  <]:i  ni  his 
death,  he  had  to  pass  through  his  awful  ordeal-> 
every  year. 


■MM 


! 


^  The  Necklace  or  Pandoia. 


"SATANISM"  AND  THE  "BLArK"  utacc* 
(LE  MESSE  NOIR)  IN  P^S      ^ 

Of  late  many  European  and  American  news- 

lar  fact  that  there  has  been  a   strange   rev^l 

Sf  iS'SSris  oJ  ^l\  '^?'"^?*^^^  ^"^  « 
ciassw  m  Pans  of  "Satanism"— that  is.  of  Satan 

worship^and.of  the  "Black  Mass"     la  Mefse 

Noir),  which  IS  one  of  the  most  profane  and  ter- 

nble  mcKies  by  which  that  worship  is  celebrated 

hoW^'^  fh^r^^'^'P  ^^  always^had  a  peShar 
hold  on  the  Latm  races,  and  on  the  French  in 

Eugene  Sue  and  other  writers  refer  to  a  re- 

orlli",  J  *?"*^  "^°"^*^"  during  tha°pJriS 

"L«n^V.3*"'^*r*'""?^x'T   ^^'*^h    preceded    the 
Coup  d  ^tat '  of  Louis  Napoleon. 
.    We  have  a  recrudescence  of  it  now— alwavs 
in  the  same  wealthy  and  aristocratic  cT^^s?? 

Midi'  2Sis1SVo"v!!'  ^"  ^°-  "-^-  ^~-  the 

•   ?il"'^  ^f  ?*^'  ^<^  '"OS*  noted  exponent  of  it 
ri^%^r''  ^'^"'  ^«  *  "^an  of  po^r  (he  wi    ' 
lord  of  three  manors),  birth,  and  iS^     H^ 
was  proved  to  have  sacrificed  hun^ed^oi  chJl 
2«°  to  ^"^"  during  his  awful  <^?eer    The  sac! 
nfice  of  a  young  chUd  to  "Satanas  Rex  Infeme" 


TsB  Necklace  of  Pamdura. 


6i 


WIS  the  principal  and  most  horrible  feature  of 
•*Le  Misse  Noir." 

The  modem  Parisian  exponents  of  this  pe- 
culiar sort  of  cult  for  the  twentieth  century,  it  is 
said,  sacrificed  to  him  either  a  lamb  (emblem  of 
our  Savior)  or  a  dove  (emblem  of  the  Holy 
Spirit^.  Probably  the  sacrifice  of  a  human  be- 
injg^  might  prove  inconvenient  nowadays,  and  lead 
eventually  to  awkward  inquiries,  even  in  liberal 
and  enlightened  Paris. 

The  reader  will  remember  the  terrible  expose 
(or  partial  expose)  during  tlie  tiuie  of  Louis  the 
Fourteenth  of  France,  of  these  practices,  when 
the  Marquise  de  Brinvilliers  was  burned  at  the 
stake  at  La  Grive  for  poisoning  and  sorcery ;  and 
when  her  accomplice,  the  protessional  sorceress, 
Doisoner,  and  priestess  of  Satan — ^Voisin — or  La 
Voisin — shared  the  same  fate. 

The  latter  awful  woman  before  her  execution 
boasted  that  she  had  celebrated  the  "Black 
Mass,"  with  the  assistant  of  a  "Celebrant"  (who 
had  to  be  an  ordained  priest)  hundreds  of  times 
for  the  most  aristocratic  men  and  women  (most- 
ly women)  in  Paris;  besides  poisoning  and  dis- 
tributing poisons  wholesale  for  years.  Many  of 
her  revelations  were  hushed  up,  as  they  impli- 
cated persons  of  the  very  highest  rank. 

The  records  of  her  trial  and  execution  (no 
romancer's  invention,  but  taken  from  the  authen- 
tic court  records  of  the  period)  show  this  woman 
La  Voisin  to  have  been  a  monster  of  wickedness, 
cunning,  and  diabolical  courage.  "She  was  in- 
deed," says  a  chronicler  of  the  period,  "one  of 


6a 


Thb    '£cklace  of  Panduka. 


those  inspired  and  strengthened  by  her  lord  and 
master,  Satan." 

Whether  she  believed  in  her  infernal  creed  and 
calline  is  uncertain— it  is  certain  that  her  dupes 
and  clients  did. 

She  defied,  and  was  unconquered  by  the 
subtilest  tortures.  What  confessions  she  made 
were  made  by  her  own  free  will— and  awful  con- 
fessions they  were!  They  implicated  so  many  of 
rank,  position,  and  power  (the  Princesse  de 
G)nd6,  wife  of  a  prince  of  the  royal  blood,  and 
Athenais,  Comptesse  de  Montespan,  Mistress  of 
the  King,  and  mother  of  his  son,  the  Due  de 
Maine),  that  the  evidence  thus  elicited  by  the 
"Chambre  Ardente"  was  quietly  hushed  up,  as  I 
have  said. 

A  slight  description  of  this  dreadful  woman, 
and  of  her  end  (Uken  from  authentic  records  of 
the  period),  might  be  interesting  to  the  reader. 

She  was  a  tall  woman,  very  stout,  "rousse" 
(red  haired),  of  great  physical  strength,  and  of  a 
powerful  but  repulsive  expression  of  counte- 
nance. Nothing  daunted  her.  Her  wicked  cour- 
age was  almost  sublime. 

She  confessed  nothing  except  from  bravado 
after  sentence,  while  La  Marquise  de  Brinvilliers, 
who  shared  her  fate,  confessed  all  at  the  mere 
threat  of  torture. 

Between  the  intervals  of  the  "Examinations" 
(the  mild  term  applied  then  to  racking  and  the 
water  torture),  she  abandoned  herself  with  her 
guards  to  the  vilest  orgies  and  debaucheries. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  this  licence  was  allowed 
to  prisoners  under  sentence  in  those  days  if  they 


?    ! 


The  Necklace  of  Panduka. 


63 


had  money,  and  this  fact  throws  a  curious  light 
on  the  times. 

Once  after  having  undergone  the  "water  tor- 
ture," and  having  drop  by  drop  absort^sd  six 
quarts  of  water,  she  vowed  she  would  drink  tiuii: 
night  six  bottles  of  wine,  and  did  so. 

Even  at  the  last  dreadful  scene,  her  diabolical 
spirit  never  failed  her.  She  cursed  the  officiating 
priests,  and  chanted  in  savage  derision  an  ob- 
scene and  blasphemous  parody  on  the  prayers  for 
her  soul. 

When  chained  to  the  stake,  with  the  fire  blaz- 
ing round  her,  she  swore  repeatedly  and  furi- 
ously, and  five  different  times  threw  off  the  straw 
and  faggots  enveloping  her. 

At  the  same  time,  and  in  the  same  way,  died 
La  Marquise  de  Brinvilliers  and  several  priests, 
"Celebrants"  of  "Le  Messe  Noir."  This  dread- 
ful example,  however,  did  not  stop  poisoning  and 
Satan  worships  in  Paris. 

During  the  Regency  of  Philippe  D'Orleans, 
while  Louis  the  Fifteentfi,  grandson  of  Louis  the 
Fourteenth,  was  a  minor,  a  lady  of  high  position 
and  a  favorite  of  the  Regents,  was  proved  to  have 
had  a  "Black  Mass"  celebrated  for  her,  paying 
for  the  same  to  a  certain  "sorceress,"  Marie  La- 
tour,  or  Lafour,  two  thousand  louis  (rather  less 
than  ten  thousand  dollars).  The  woman  Latour 
poisoned  herself  on  hearing  she  had  been  de- 
nounced. 

The  executioner  of  Paris  was  likewise  impli- 
cated in  this  singular  affair,  which  was  also 
"hushed  up"  when  it  threatened  revelations 
damaging  to  the  very  highest  circles. 


64  The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 

unZ^l  'i*  executioner  should  have  been  mixed 

up  with  the  celebration  of  a  "Black  Mass"  for  a 

t^^rSf  ^'^^/*^'  will  appear  when  we  examine 

S^re  Sety    "*''^°°«>  «^  ^«  demoniacal  rite 

It  may  now  be  interesting  to  the  reader  to 
fcnow  exactly  wAfl*  the  ritual  of  this  Infernal 
Mass  was  and  what  the  "Postulant"  (the  per- 
son  for  whom  the  Mass  was  said,  and  who  lf»d 
some  speaal,  urgent,  overwhelming  wish,  which 
caused  hmi  or  her  to  run  such  risks  in  this  world 
and  m  the  next)  had  to  do,  and  what  was  the  na- 
ture of  the  prayers  he  or  she  offered  up.  Also 
what  were  the  duties  cf  the  priestly  "Celebrant" 

I  cannot  do  better-if  I  wish  shortly  and  satis- 
factorUy  to  gratify  this  natural  wish— than  to 

Fhi''"R^rrM^""»*^l-^?"*'  *"*^^"*^^  details  of 
the  Black  Mass"  which— according  to  her  own 
confession— La  Voisin  procured  to  be  celebrated 
for  Madame  de  Montespan  (nee  De  Tonnay- 
Charente),  Mistress  of  King  Louis  the  Four- 
teenth  La  Voisin-as  I  have  said  beforel 
Sm'!!?  *^m  ?H*^?^  celebrated  hundreds  of  these 
Messes  Noirs"  for  the  aristocracy,  male  and 
female— mostly  female. 

^P'^u^t  occasion  of  the  particular  "Black  Mass." 
of  which  I  speak,  ma  spacious  vaulted  room, 
hung  with  black,  perfumed  with  incense,  and  lit 
with  candles  exactly  as  if  for  an  ordinary  c.  '- 
bration  of  the  Mass  (with  the  ghastly  exception 
that  the  candles  were  made  of  the  fat  of  a  human 
being— of  an  executed  person— 'un  uendu"^ 
stood  a  large  black  altar.  ^         ''' 

On  it  was  a  mattress,  and  on  the  mattress  lay 


The  Necklace  op  Panduila. 


6S 


prone  the  perfectly  -nude  form   of   a   beautiful 
woman. 

This  was  "The  Postulant"— "the  living  altar" 
— as  she  was  called  in  the  jargon  of  ^is  satanic 
sect,  for  whom  the  Mass  v/as  said.  When  we 
note  the  peculiar  and  horrible  composition  of  the 
candles  which  lit  up  this  profane  rite,  we  can 
guess  how  an  executioner  came  to  be  mixed  up 
with  one  or  more  of  these  affairs.  On  the  nude 
woman's  face  was  a  black  velvet  mask.  In 
front  of  her  who  thus  formed  the  "living  altar," 
stood  the  "Celebrant,"  on  one  side  the  ^Sorcer- 
ess," who  now  comes  forward  and  places  over 
her  body  at  the  waist  an  embroidered  pall.  On 
this  is  placed  a  gold  crucifix  reversed,  and  a  gold 
chalice,  containing  the  pre-sanctified  Host,  horri- 
bly and  profanely  desecrated,  in  a  manner  which 
it  is  needless  to  describe  here. 

The  "Celebrant,"  who,  as  I  have  said  before, 
was  always  an  ordained  priest,  was  dressed  in 
the  usual  robes  worn  by  a  vicar  when  celebrating 
a  true  Mass,  save  that  over  them  he  wore  a 
chausuble  of  bright  ydlow,  embroidered  with 
cones  of  the  fir  tree — the  tree  of  Satan. 

And  now  in  the  dark  recesses  of  the  chapel, 
illuminated  by  the  light  of  the  carpse-candles,  the 
deep  note  of  a  gong  is  heard,  struck  by  invisible 
hands,  and  the  priest  says  - 

"Kyrie  elitson! 
"Satanas  elieson ! 
"Kyrie  elieson !" 

The  gong  is  struck  a  seccxid  time,  aad  Ae 
"Celebrant"  recites  the  following  invoeatiooal 
prayer  to  Satan,  to  which,  as  wdl  as  t»  ^  V^' 


66 


The  Nbcklac*  of  Pandura. 


ers  that  follow,  I  have  ventured  to  supply  Am 
English  translation. 

"Gloria  tibi  SatanasI  Gloria  in  excelsis,  ct 
benedictio,  et  honor,  et  potestas,  in  caecula  caecu- 
lorum!  Landamus  te!  Benedicamus  te!  Ador- 
amus  te!  Glorificamus  te!  Agimus  tibi  gratiae 
propter  magnam  gloriam  tuam!  Domine  Deus! 
Kex  Infeme!  Deus  omnipotens!  Respice  suppli- 
cationem  nostrum !" 

"Glory  to  the  Satan!  Glory  and  blessing,  and 
honor,  and  power  in  the  highest  for  ever  and 
ever !  We  praise  thee !  We  bless  thee !  We  adore 
thee!  We  glorify  thee !  We  thank  thee  because  of 
thy  great  glory!  Lord  God!  King  of  Hell!  God 
omnipresent !  Receive  our  supplication !" 

The  gong  is  struck  a  third  time ;  the  Sorceress 
holds  up  a  living  child  drugged  to  insensibility 
and  naked,  and  the  "Celebrant"  proceeds:  "Te 
igitur,  Qementissime  Domine,  supplices  roga- 
mus  ac  petimus,  uti  accepta  habeas  et  benedicas 
hac  dona,  hac  munera,  hac  sacrificea  illibata  quae 
tibi  offerimus !" 

"Accept,  most  gracious  Lord,  accept,  I  conjure 
thee,  the  sacrifice  of  this  child  I  now  offer,  in  re- 
turn for  the  grace  I  am  about  to  ask !" 

The  gong  is  struck  for  the  last  time.  The  child 
is  brought,  and  held  over  the  "living  altar"— its 
throat  is  cut,  and  the  blood  is  received  into  the 
chalice.  The  "Celebrant"  raises  the  cup  aloft, 
repeating  in  horrible  travesty  of  the  Sacrament, 
"Hie  est  enim  calix  sanguinis  mei!"  (This  is 
the  cup  of  my  blood.)  Then,  "Oramus."  (Let  us 
pray.)  At  this  the  "Postulant"  must  reply,  "I 
pray!" 


The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 


»7 


And  the  "Celebrant"  proceeds:  "Satan,  Lord 
of  Life  and  Death !  Prince  of  the  Air  I  Acceptor 
of  blood !  Hear  the  prayer  of  this  thy  servant ! 
(Here  follows  the  full  name  of  the  'Pmtulant,' 
and  the  particular  wish  or  petition,  to  obtain 
which  this  terrible  and  blasphemous  Mass  was 
said.)  In  the  case  of  Madame  de  Montespan  the 
petition  was  that  the  King  would  loathe  all  other 
women,  and  that  her  son,  the  Due  de  Maine, 
would  succeed  to  the  throne.  To  this  prayer  the 
"Postulant"  responds  "Amen."  The  "Celebrant" 
then  advancing,  draws  with  the  blood  of  the  sac- 
rifice a  pentacle  on  the  breast  of  the  "Posti^ant" 
The  half  empty  cup  is  then  held  over  the  altar. 
A  paten  is  brought  from  a  side  tabh,  liie  remain- 
ing fragments  of  the  Host  in  it  are  emptied  into 
the  chalice  and  spat  on. 

Then  the  cup  is  emptied  over  ^  "Postulant," 
and  the  candles  are  blown  out  Then  in  the 
darkness,  the  Infernal  Mass  concludes  with  the 
usual  words,  '*Ite — missa  est  I" 

Such  was  the  ritual  of  the  "Black  Mass,"  the 
chief  ceremonial  of  that  fantastic  satd  blasphem- 
ous Satan  worship  which  was  so  curiously  fre- 
quent among  the  Latin  races  in  the  Middle  Ages 
— and  later 

Its  reported  revival  among  certain  of  the  fash- 
ionable degenerates  of  Paris — though,  as  I  have 
said — without  the  human  sacrifice  which  formed 
its  chief  feature  and  horror,  exhibits  a  phase  of 
the  brilliant  but  abnormal  Gallic  intellect  simply 
mcomprehensible  to  Anglo-Saxons. 


■§■■1 


Tn  Nbcxlacb  or  PAMDinu. 


n 


"EVEN  IF  I  AM  DEADI" 
(A  Story.) 

**1  am  sorry  to  have  been  so  hard— so  cruel— 
as  I  was  then ;  hut  I  should  never  see  you  affain 
—you  knew  I  should  not !  Far  less  meet  you.  as 
youwantmeto.    You  have  no  right " 

So  spoke  I,  Jessi>  Halstead,  a  weak,  wicked 

^,?  '^w  ***^*''  ^°"™**  Holmes,  one  who 
shwild  not  have  been  my  lover,  and  whose  youn£ 

7^^  t^'  "  ^  "***  beginnincr,  to  my  sham* 
to^e  h«n,  as  we  stood  toge&r  in  the  post 
«e  of  the  small  country  town  where  we  both 

"^t  tWs  once,  sweet  f  On  my  honor,  but  this 
once  I  A  few  mmutes  of  Heaven  before  you  send 
me  away  to  the  devil-that  isn't  much.  I  have 
something  to  say  to  you— something  that  must  be 
said,  which  I  can  t  say  now  with  all  these  people 
around  us,"  he  said  quickly,  seemg  me  wavSr. 

I  mean  you  no  harm.    There  wiU  be  no  dan- 
ger. 

"But  there  wUl  be  danger!"  I  cried.  "You 
can  t  come  to  our  house.  You  know  what 
wicked  things  people  are  saying.  Oh,  Conrad, 
If  you  really  loved  me  as  you  say  you  do.  yoii 
would  spare  me  all  this  I"  ^  /      «  .  you 

"I  must  see  you  once,  love  I   Yorj  shan't  refuse 


The  NtcxLACB  of  Pansuka.  69 

meT  he  said.  (He  well  understood  the  saying, 
"La  femme  qui  ^ute  est  perdue."  "But  it  shall 
be  where  you  please.  See,  slip  out  at  half  past 
ei|^t  to-night  It  will  be  dark  then.  Go  up 
that  small  street  straight  from  your  house  which 
all  those  great  elms  shadow.  I  will  be  waiting 
underthe  last  of  them  by  the  park  gates.  I  won^ 
detain  you,  but  I  have  something  that  must  be 
said.    Oh,  love,  come  I    This  once !" 

"Oh,  I  ought  not  I    I  ought  not !"  I  cried. 

"You  will,  my  own.  He  was  sure  enough  now. 
How  can  I  thank  you,  Jessie?" 

For  the  first  time  I  looked  up  at  him. 

"Yes,"  I  said,  with  a  sudden  reckless  access, 
which  many  a  woman  has  recalled  with  bitterness 
to  her  dyinqr  day,  "I  will  come.    This  once!" 

"You  will  never  be  sorry,  Jess  I  For  Heaven's 
sake,  don't  fail  me!" 

"Much  Heaven  will  have  to  do  with  it !"  I  cried 
in  my  reckless  mood.    "Perhaps  you'll  fail  me." 

"Fail  you!"  I  can  hear  that  passionate  voice 
now.  "I  would  not  fail  at  such  a  tryst  with  my 
Httle  queen,  even  if  I  were  deadt"  Then  bend- 
ing his  dark,  handsome  face  toward  me,  he 
quoted  Tennyson's  lovely  lines :  ' 

"She  is  coming,  my  own,  my  sweet ! 
Were  it  ever  so  airy  a  tread. 
My  heart  would  hear  her  and  beat. 
Had  it  lain  for  a  century  dead. 
Would  start  and  tremble  under  her  feet 
And  blossom  in  purple  and  red  I" 

"Hush!  Hush!"  I    said.      "Don't   say   such 


I 


JO  The  Nbcklaci  of  PAifDotA. 

?*W'  ^T^  "•>  ^  *^<''     Th«y  *«  ua- 
Ittclnr  I    Oh,  Conrad,  we  are  doing  wrong  I" 

I  care  not  I"  his  passionate  roice  relied    "I 

have  your  promise,  and  nothing  good  or  evil  will 

now  bar  my  way,  or  keep  me  from  my  little  Jess. 

I  say  it  agam.    I  would  meet  you — call  you  my 

own  again,  even  if  I  were  dead !" 

He  had  raised  his  voice,  and  some  of  the  peo- 
ple near— for  it  was  a  public  place  where  we  had 
met — turned  half  around. 

"You  must  go,"  I  said.  "We  have  talked  long 
enotV"'    Those  women  are  lodcing " 

"Yes—yes,  dear.  I  must  go  for  a  whUe.  Re- 
member, to-night,  and  remember  what  I  have 
said  f ' 

We  parted,  and  I,  wicked  girl,  had  promised  to 
meet  hun,  and  I  meant  to  keep  my  promite. 
Now,  remember,  all  that  day  was  passed  by 

fl!  i?  *Kf**r°*  ^Vi"^^'  *■***'"»  happiness,  like 
the  troubled  joy  of  the  opium  eater. 

I  had  no  presentiment,  no  foreboding  of  the 
'*'"*ng«  and  awful  experience  I  was  to  go 
through  that  night— absolutely  none. 

And  yet  the  terror  of  that  one  night  was  to 
make  the  rest  of  my  life  a  scene  of  penance  and 
prayer,  which  is  unavailing  for  a  moment  to  re- 
move the  shuddering  dread  with  which  I  look 
forward  to  the  coming  of  my  last  hour. 

When  I  slipped  out  to  meet  my  lover  at  the 
time  he  told  me,  I  went  with  a  fierce  longing  to 
see  him  m  which  there  was  not  a  trace  of  rei^it- 
ance  or  foreboding,  though  I  knew  he  would  ask 
me  to  go  away  with  him— and  that  I  meant  to 
consent 


Thi  Necklace  of  Panduba. 


y« 


I  passed  up  the  unfrequented  street,  under  the 
thick,  heavy  foliage  of  the  trees,  through  the 
daric,  still  midsummer  night,  till  I  saw  the  electric 
light  shining  on  the  great  row  of  elms  by  the 
park  gate,  where  I  was  to  meet  him. 

And  now,  let  me  think  f  When  I  saw  and  rec- 
ognized that  tall  form  waiting  by  the  last  of  the 
great  elms,  I  felt  nothing  but  the  old  thrill  of 
delieht  which  the  sight  of  no  other  human  being 
could  cause  to  me. 

It  was  not  till  he  turned  and  came  slowly  for- 
ward to  meet  me — still  some  paces  distant — that 
without  warning — without  reason — without  con- 
trol— came  creeping  over  me  that  strange,  resist- 
less thrill  of  indefinable  horror. 

Now,  mind — I  had  parted  from  him  a  few 
hours  before  full  of  strength  and  passion  and 
life;  and  yet  before  that  shape  had  taken  three 
paces  toward  me — I  knew. 

It  was  my  Conrad — my  tempter — come  to 
meet  my  wicked  self,  but  not  in  the  flesh,  and 
from  any  place  where  good  spirits  rest  in  peace, 
but  from  some  awful  home  of  expiation  and  de- 
spair. 

Beneath  the  dark  shadow  of  the  great  trees, 
where  our  meeting  was  to  be,  my  dead  lover 
paused  beside  me,  as  I  shrunk  against  the  railing 
with  starting  eyes,  and  every  limb  benumbed 
with  deadly  terror. 

And  as  he  paused  the  bright  electric  light 
s!ione  broad  and  full  upon  his  face — my  Con- 
rad's face! 

No  love  now — no  passion — no  gentle  thought 
for  me  on  that  white,  drawn,  awful   face;  su- 


J 


MKHOCOPy  RBOUITION  TBT  CHAIT 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


l££|2£ 

tSm 

ia~ 

|i£   |3|2 

■  2.2 

U    1b 

■■■ 

u 

■  2.0 

I 


^  /1PPLIED  IN/MGE    Inc 

^^  16S3  East  Main  Slrecl 

prs  RochMter.  N«<>  York        U609       USA 

^S  (716)  +82  -  0300  -  Phon. 

^3  (716)  2B8- 5989 -Fox 


7» 


The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 


H 


preme  terror,  intense  malignity,  hopeless,  endless 
despair,  were  stamped  upon  it  now,  for  a  lost 
soul  m  torment  looked  forth  on  me  from  those 
glaring  eyes.    Then  he  bent  over  me  as  in  the 
morning— as  then  he  spoke. 
He  said,  "I  come— even  though  dead !" 
My  sister  was  bending  over  me. 
"Don't  speak,  Jess!     You    have    been    in    a 
swoon  for  hours,  but  are  better  now.    The  doc- 
tor has  just  left  us.     Father  and  the  coachman 
found  you  insensible  at  the  park  gates  under  the 
last  of  those  great  elms.    How  lucky  they  should 
have  driven  home  that  way!     They    were    de 
tamed  in  town  by  the  dreadful  news  about  poor 
Conrad  Holmes."  *^ 

"Conrad !    What  news  ?" 

"i  '^°»7^«"'*  »^Xe  *°'^  y°"  yet— you  are  too 
weak.  Well,  well,  it  seems  Mr.  Holmes  was  gal- 
loping home  from    his    usual    ride    about    six 

0  clock.  He  was  in  a  great  hurry  about  some- 
thing. The  horse  stumbled  on  the  loose  stones 
at  his  very  gate,  and  rolled  right  over  him.  He 
was  killed  on  the  spot!  Poor,  poor  fellow'  He 
was  rather  wild   but  so  handsome,  and  so  nice. 

1  always  liked  him.    Didn't  you,  Jess  ">" 

In  one  of  the  strictest  of  our  Sisterhoods,  in 
penance  and  m  prayer,  I  await  with  shudderini? 
dread  the  day  when  I  may  again  be  called  to  meet 
my  lost  lover. 


I 


The  Necklace  or  Pandura. 


73 


"NEVER  ALONE." 
(A  Story.) 

Tis  long,  long  ago  since  the  crime  was  com- 
mitted. I  was  no  millionaire  then,  but  a  poor 
miner  in  the  Sierras,  and  he — he  was  my  partner. 

We  had  found  gold  at  last  in  a  lonely  ravine, 
enough  to  make  rich  men  of  us  in  a  few  weeks, 
after  many  a  month  of  weary  and  dangerous 
prospecting  in  that  barren,  awful  land. 

I  can  scarcely  remember  how  the  quarrel 
started — about  some  mere  trifle  it  was  at  most. 
A  thing  we  would  have  laughed  over  at  any 
other  time;  but  we  were  crazed  with  toil,  hun- 
ger, and  excitement — and  our  revolvers  were 
handy. 

I  packed  his  body  on  one  of  our  horses  to  a 
great  torrent  that  roared  through  one  of  the 
neighboring  gulches,  which  carried  it  off  like  a 
feather.  Then  slowly  and  in  pain — for  I  was 
hurt  in  the  arm  by  one  of  his  bullets— I  collected 
specimens,  put  up  my  claim,  and  then  packing 
specimens  enough  on  his  horse,  I  mounted  my 
own,  and  leading  the  other,  picked  my  way 
slowly  down  to  the  plains,  and  rode  to  the  near- 
est town  to  register  my  claim,  and  get  some  solid 
men  for  partners,  as  I  wasn't  rich  enough  to  de- 
velop it  alone. 


74 


The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 


11 


thaMt^d"e7d^rn  wr^^^^  the  fancy 

his  say  in  ev^y" hLTust  af  i^he^'  rne   h,,i^g 
i  thought  this  a^i?    as  if  he  was  ahve. 

Hiown  be«er  sScel  '  """^  ^'"^^  *^<^°-  I've 
vislTbut^r/a'tl'n^/-  ^^ways  with  n,e,  in- 
reckless  ruffian  then  and  ./fif  ^"  ''^^  "^""ved. 
"It  was  a  fair  fieht  r  ?  "  m'  "^^'^  *  ««  bad. 
"He  drew  on  me  fifsi  Fv^-i^.'^^^  *°  "^3^self. 
were  known,  nothin^couW  i  h  *^'  ^''^'^  ^^^"g 

But  the  continuS  uns"  n  5fJ°""  *°  '"^ '" 
awful  even  then  when  t  P^^^^^n^e  was  azvful; 
and  bold.  In  evervthrni  T^V^W  and  string 
planned-that  unseen  nr?  '^''*"~'"  everything  I 
that  subtile  whS^er "^P^^^^^^^^^  ^"^'^^^  -S- 
suggesting,  commanS   and    X^  '"'  "'8^"^' 

the  mine,    h^routt  '^^P'^^^'^ts,  and  developed 
creased  it.    I  emU^ked'in'' ^''"*  ^^^^^^^    ^^ 
always  driven  Xav.  H.     .'^i"^  speculations- 
viserf  '  ^^""^y'  ^^""ted  by  my  terrible  ad- 

est'mtrAm'rtt'and^^^^^^^^^^  .?"^  °^  '^^  -h. 
and  with  reason      '  ^  °^  *^^  '"^st  hated- 

ciee'^tVerrgHn'^^^^^^^^^^  every  evil 

sS  s-^Lst4o%i^^^^^^  -^^  ^= 

doing-not  miiTe!  P^^"'  ^^S^"''  ^^  his 


The  Necklace  of  Pandura.  75 

bJW'LI  *'''\'^  *°  '"''*  ^^-  It  >vas  no  use-, 
and  he  grew  stronger  and  stron-er  as  I  crew 
older  and  weaker.  ^ 

of1.?«''i^-.^'vf^''^"^  ^^^^'^  °^  ^«  presence,  and 
the  hour  when  ?'"°'"Pf'"?^'  Sre^  nTore  awfulas 
tne  hour  when  I  must  die  and  meet  him  face  to 
face  drew  nearer  and  nearer 

and  snriS'  %^^  '"?^'  "'^  ^'•^^'^  those  railways 
that  u??ed  r  n  '■"''liT''  ^'^  ''^'''-  It  ^««  ^^ 
was  ^u!t  d^l?'.;"'^  '''P*  '"^  ^''^"^  ^°i"&  what 
woJkrwher/  fif.  *^!  ^'^^^  '^"^^  '"  "ly  iron 
do^vn  iS  ^  *^  '?'"X'"S^  workmen  were  shot 
down  like  dogs,  and  their  wives  and  children 
left^p^nmless  to  the  cold  and  famine  of  comSg 

At  last,  here  in  Paris,  the  last  fatal  illness  fell 

&r  Tl'',?;'^1  ^^T'^^  grew  unt  ab  y 
der  I  could  hi.  ^'f  f  ^^"^  "P°"  ^y  «houl- 
knew  thTi.  '*'  footsteps  behind  me.     It 

exulTed  ^''^  ^^'  ^^'"^^^  '"  ^t^  g'-^^P.  and 

Then,  in  despair,  I  consulted  some  of  th.^ 
greatest  doctors  and  specialists  of  twTlreat  and 
wise  city     I  spoke  of  the  horrors  thS  Sse    me 


1^ 


Tn;.  Necklace  op  Pandura. 


had  covered  an  inch  deep  with  fine  sand.    They 
came— four  of  them.  ^ 

"Tell  me,"  I  said  t  the  eldest  and  greatest 
among  them  as  he  stood  at  the  threshold?  "what 
marks  see  you  m  the  sand  just  behind  me?" 

1  he  prmts, '  he  said,  turning  pale,  "of  two 
naked  human  feet  I"  ^  v   ^,    ui  iwo 

saidT^""^^  towards  them.    "What  follows  me?" 

"Still,"  he  said,  shuddering,  "the  prints  of 
naked  human  feet!"  ^ 

aloi^?'"^'  ^^"  '"^'"  ^  '^"^^«^'  "shall  I  ever  be 

And  the  schoolmen  gave  a  low  cry,  and  fled 
panic-stricken  from  my  apartments. 

♦i,f  "T^^~T^^'"^  ''  r  ^^'P  ^o'"  '"e '    As  I  write 
these  lines,  I  know  that  I  must  die  in  a  day  or 

two  at  furthest-and  A^-he  is  in  the  room  with 


The  Nbcxlacb  or  Pamdusa. 


71 


"A  MATCH  BY  MISHAP." 

''Matmna  said  I  was  not  on  any  account  to 
dance  with  you  more  than  once,  and  now  you've 
got  yourself  down  for  six.  And  she  wouldn't 
bring  Muriel.  She  said  'one  of  us  was  enough 
to  look  after,  goodness  knows!'  I  had  to  fetch 
a  letter  from  Muriel  to  Guy  Hastings  (you 
know  he's  the  eldest  son  of  our  hostess)  sixteen 
pages  long,  packed  up  in  Dante's  Vita  Nuova, 
which  she  borrowed  from  him  on  purpose  to 
send  back  with  a  letter  in  it,  for  she  can't  read 
a  line  of  Italian — neither  can  he.  Muriel  said  if 
I  didn't  she'd  insist  on  coming  instead  of  me, 
being  the  eldest,  and  mamma  nearly  caught  me 
gfiving  it  to  Guy,  first  thing." 

"(Yes,  Mr.  Brown,  I  can  give  you  four  or  six. 
You'll  always  find  me  near  mamma.)  Now, 
Algy,  remember!  Don't  come  near  mc  before 
nineteen  or  twenty.  Mamma  will  be  on  the 
prowl  all  the  time  before  supper.  After  that 
she's  quieter,  and  if  she  gets  to  whist  or  bridge 
after  supper,  she's  pretty  safe.  Now,  remember  I 
It's  for  my  sake!  That  old  wretch,  V-'i.  Mc- 
Fadden,  told  her  we  were  engaged,  so  she  says 
she'll  tell  papa  if  she  sees  the  least  sign  of  any- 
thing of  the  sort  this  evening.  (I  haven't  a 
waltz  left,  Mr.  Smithers.  So  sorry!)  So  we 
must  look  outt" 


79 


Thf  Necklace  op  Pandura. 


Thus  spokv  oroathlessly  and  emphatically  the 
pretty  Miss  EUinor  Fortescue,  aged  nineteen,  a 
fair  daughter  of  Toronto,  to  a  handsome  young 
detrmiental  called  Algernon  Southcote,  aged 
twenty-six,  a  youth  of  good  English  family,  who. 
like  many  others  of  that  ilk,  had  come  to  Can- 
ada to  try  his  luck"  and  was  trying  it  now  at 
this  Toronto  ball,  given  by  a  Mrs.  Hastings,  one 
of  those  exalted  beings  whom  fashionable  papers 
when  in  an  effervescent  mood  term  "Queens  of 
Society."  ^ 

EUinor  and  Algernon  imagined  themselves  en- 
gaged, but  as  Algernon,  though  a  gentleman,  the 
son  of  a  high  dignitary  in  the  church,  etc.,  etc., 
was  the  happy  recipient  of  an  income  of  about 
?»oo  per  annum,  and  as  Miss  EUinor  was  the 
scion  of  one  of  the  first  families  in  the  city,  and 
accustomed  to  spend  a  good  deal  more  than  that 
amount  on  her  clothes  alone  yearly,  and  meant 
Dy  ner  fond  but  obstinate  parents  to  "marry 
wealth,  their  chances  for  a  union  seemed  "faint 
and  far  away." 

Of  course,  Algernon  said  "he  would  do  any- 
thmg  for  his  Ellinor's  sake—anything!"  Then 
observing  the  vast  though  aristocratic  form  of 
his  beloved  one's  mother  advancing  upon  them 
with  the  ponderous  dignity  of  a  whole  herd  of 
elephante,  he  "effaced  himself,"  as  the  French 
say,  and  slid  dexterously  into  the  windings  of 
the  mazy  throng  which  now  crowded  the  ball 
room. 

It  has  been  observed  by  various  gifted  authors 
noted  as  students  of  human  nature,  such  as 
bteme,  Thackeray  and  others,  that  in  dissimulat- 


The  Necklace  oi  ^^andura. 


79 


in^  mental  suffering,  especially  that  peculiarly 
pauiful  kind  causeJ  by  the  tender  passion,  the 
so-called  weaker  sex  can  give  many  points  to 
the  apparently  stronger  nerved  wearer  of— mas- 
culine garments. 

The  saying  that  "Poverty,  real  love,  and  a  tight 
boot  are  three  things  which  cannot  long  be  con- 
cealed," only  applies  to  men.  A  woman  wears 
shoes  two  sizes  too  small  for  her,  and  positively 
does  not  feel  it,  if  only  she  is  certain  that  her 
chassure  is  becoming.  She  an  smile  like  a 
whole  sky  full  of  seraphs  on  a  man  she  doesn't 
care  a  pin  for  during  a  whole  evening,  and  freeze 
or  snub  the  man  she  secretly  likes  for  a  similar 
period,  or  for  as  much  longer  as  she  pleases,  or 
harder  still,  she  can  appear  to  be  utterly  uncon- 
scious of  the  latter's  presence,  or  indeed  exist- 
ence, as  long  as  she  pleases.  No  man  living, 
however  experienced  a  hand,  can  perform  this 
last  feat. 

The  truth  of  this  was  exemplified  by  the  very 
different  demeanor  of  our  two  lovers  during  the 
earlier  part  of  that  fateful  ball. 

The  lovely  Ellinor  was  to  all  appearances  as 
calm  as  a  Muskoka  lake  and  evidently,  like  John 
Gilpin,  "on  pleasure  bent"  from  the  start.  She 
danced,  she  flirted,  she  sought  secluded  spots 
with  various  appreciative  partners.  She  made 
Tom  Trippet,  just  engaged  to  her  dearest  friend, 
Clara  Turner  "follow  her  about,"  as  that  indig- 
nant damsel  remarked  to  him  later,  "like  a  little 
cur  dog!"  And  she  made  old  Jack  Prodgers, 
aged  fifty-six,  seriously  consider  how  he  could 
manage  to  induce  "that  sweet,  artless,  amiable 


The  Necklace  of  Panouea. 


to  become  Mrs.  Jack 


rirl,  Ellinor  Fortescue,' 
Prodgers. 

She  also  whiled  away  a  little  of  her  spare  time 
by  mdulgmg  ma  slight  flirtation  with  the  youth- 
ful Alexander  Hastings,  the  youngest  son  of  her 
hostess,  who  was  consumed  with  the  most  hope- 
less kind  of  calf-love  for  herself,  and  with  a  cor- 
respondingly bitter  hatred  for  her  Algernon. 
This  youth,  who  may  be  briefly  described  as  a 
baddish  sort  of  cub,  endowed  with    a    sort   of 

was  to  be  done,  finally  departed  in  anything  but 
an  amiable  mood,  impelled  thereto  by  certain  de- 
cided snubs  administered  by  Ellinor,  who  saw 
supper  time,  and  therefore  the  time  for  con- 
versing and  dancing  with  the  beloved  Algernon 
drawing  nigh,  * 

Thes.  snubs  were  pretty  unmistakable  ones, 
for  the  youth  was  soii,ewhat  obtuse,  and  as  the 
lady  finally  remarked  to  him,  "It  was  no  use  try- 
ing to  shoot  a  rhinoceros  with  snip-  shot " 

On  this  the  youth  departed,  vowing  vengeance 
on  all  and  sundry. 

If  Ellinor  had  only  refrained  from  this  last  lit- 
tle amusement,  events  would  have  been  very  dif- 
ferent. But  who  can  rule  his  fate? 
ofYif''^  different  meanwhile  was  the  demeanor 
of  the  lovelorn  Algernon.  He  was  in  that  moc 
When  the  soul  spurns  the  noisy  reveller.  En- 
tering the  ball  room,  he  leaned  in    a    haughty 

te"'  t.?'*""^^  ^^i,"'*  ^^^*  '"  ^«  imagination 
he  thought  was  a  piUar,  till  roused  by  the  voice 
Of  the  fair  and  vivacious  Mrs.  Alexander  Mc- 
2)tmger,  requesting  to  be  allowed  to  move.    He 


The  Necklace  of  Panduia.  8i 

fled  aghast,  without  asking  for  a  dance,  whereon 
the  irate  fair  one  took  occasion  to  sweetly  re- 
mark to  several  of  her  numerous  friends  "that 
she  was  really  angry  with  Mr.  Southcote  at  first, 
but  when  she  saw  he  was  so  very  bad  that  he 
actually  mistook  her  for  the  wall,  she  had  to  par- 
don him!  She  added  that  "it  was  quite  too 
dreadfully  awful  to  see  so  nice  a  young  fellow  in 
such  a  state,  and  so  early  in  the  evening,  too  I" 

Now,  Algernon  prided  himself,  and  with  rea- 
son, on  being  particularly  abstemious. 

Fleeing  from  the  ball  room  to  a  smaller  apart- 
ment, sacred  to  chaperons,  cards  and  scandal,  the 
luckless  Algernon  first  trod  on,  and  then  kicked 
into  the  grate  the  favorite  pug  dog  of  his  hostess, 
receiving  "a  good  warm  bite"  from  the  animal 
for  his  pains,  and  earning  the  undying  hate  of 
the  lady  of  the  house.  After  this  episode,  and 
after  asking  a  young  lady  he  knew  slightly  "who 
that  fat,  vulgar  woman  in  the  awful  crazy  quilt 
gown  was?"  and  hearing  from  her  "that  it  was 
her  aunt,"  Algernon  passed  on  to  other  social 
successes.  He  was  a  pretty  fair  dancer  usually, 
an '.  when  he  gave  his  mind  to  it,  but  when  the 
soul  is  filled  with  the  idea  of  one  loved  object,  a 
man  is  very  much  out  of  place  in  a  crowded  ball 

om. 

This  Algernon  proved  indisputably.  He  tore 
skirts,  he  trod  crushingly  on  tiny  toes,  and  finally 
had  "quite  the  fall  of  the  evening"  near  the  ball 
room  door,  butting,  in  his  agonized  attempts  to 
save  himself  and  partner,  a  stout  and  stately 
dowager,  clean  out  of  the  room.  When  he  rose 
and  saw  that  the  lady  to  whom  he  had  given  this 


8a 


The  Necklace  of  Panduia. 


httie  surprise  was  the  mother  of  his  intended,  he 
leit  that  his  cup  was  about  overwhelmingly  full. 

bo  he  sought  a  secluded  recess,  and  remained 
?*"  >n  a  crushed  condition  for  over  half  an 
hour,  oblivious  of  engagements,  or  of  anything 
else  in  the  wide,  wide  world. 

From  this  somewhat  unpleasant  frame  of  mind 
he  was  roused  by  the  light  top  of  a  fan  on  his 
shoulder,  and  lifting  his  drooping  head,  saw  be- 
fore him  Miss  Ellinor  Fortescue,  looking  dis- 
tract. „'ly  pretty,  and  as  sweet  and  calm  as  a 
May  mcrnmg.  At  this  longed-for  rpectocle,  "A 
light  on  Algys  visage  spread,  and  fired  his  glaz- 

"Mamma  has  gone  to  supper  now,  and  it  is 
safe  for  three  dances  at  least,"  said  the  young 
lady  calmly.  "You  were  a  very  good  boy  never 
to  come  near  me.  But.  oh,  Algy  I  you  nied  not 
jave  made  yourself  so  very  conspicuous! 
Mamma  said  she  thought  the  house  had  fallen  on 
ur,  "**  ^^  ^^^  matter  with  you?" 
I  m  aware  I  was  very  awkward,"  said  South- 
cote,  somewhat  sullenly.  "How  could  I  think 
of  what  I  was  doing  while  I  could  see  you  flirt- 
mg  and  going  on  as  you  were,  and  with  such  a 
lot  of  cads,  tool"  he  added  viciously. 

There  now!  When  I  took  particular  pains 
to  dance  only  with  the  ugliest  and  stupidest  men 
iif °"i  ?.»  °"i— to  have  you  misunderstand  me 
like  that!  said  the  adroit  maiden.  "I  thoueht 
surely  even  yoM  couldn't  be  jealous  of  that  lot! 
If  you  only  knew  what  I  underwent  all  the  time  1 
And  now,  when  I  thought  I  was  going  to  have 
some  pleasure  at  last,  you  speak  so  unkindly  to 


The  Necklace  of  Panouka. 


83 


niel"  And  her  voice  trembled,  either  with 
lauehter  or  tears. 

VVhereupon,  of  course,  Aigernon  at  once  caved 
in,  acknowledfi^ed  his  transgressions,  and  "his  un- 
worthiness  to  be  even  noticed  by  such  a  peerless 
girl  as  his  faithful  darling  Nellie,  etc.,  etc.  I" 

Then  the  reunited  pair  sought  the  ball  room. 
They  had  three  waltzes  straight  en  end,  and  a 
lovely  time  generally,  when  the  influx  of  people 
from  the  supper  room  and  the  appearance  of 
sundry  flushed  and  talkative  dowagers  ind 
chaperons  gave  warning  to  fly  to  safer  scenes. 
Adroitly  eluding  Mrs.  Fortescue,  who  was  lean- 
ing on  the  arm  of  the  Honorable  Hugh  Howler 
—  the  last  "nd  latest  of  a  noble  line"  in  the  old 
country,  wIvj  had  come  out  to  Canada  to  "learn 
fawming" — but  who  so  far  had  not  got  beyond 
the  delight  and  surprise  occasioned  by  his  first 
contact  with  Canadian  whiskey,  Ellinor  and  Al- 
gernon rushed  oflf  to  the  supper  room. 

They  were  both  too  far  gone  by  this  time  to 
indulge  in  such  a  coarse  earthly  thing  as  supper. 
The  lady  took  an  ice  and  three-quarters  of  a  glass 
of  champagne;  the  gentleman,  half  a  macaroon 
and  three  glasses  of  the  same  lieverage.  A  small 
glass  door  on  one  side  cf  the  suppe  -orm  led 
to  a  tiny  conservatory,  where  some  c  he  more 
valuable  plants,  which  wanted  more  ^are  than 
those  in  the  great  conserva'.ories,  were  kept.  A 
walk  led  down  to  a  sequestered  nook  at  the  end, 
completely  screened  -y  foliage  ina  flowers  from 
any  one  till  he  got  wlvi.ii  three  paces  of  it;  while 
those  occupying  it  had  the  advantage  of  being 
able  to  see  the  intruder  all  the  way  down  the 


8*  The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 

straight  walk.  On  the  other  side  of  this  nook 
was  a  strong  door,  leading  to  the  furnace  room 
of  the  conservatory.  To  this  secluded  spot, 
iilhnor,  who  knew  the  house  as  well  as  her  own 
led  Algernon,  for  they  both  perceived  that  the 
ball  room  was  safe  no  longer.  Though  there 
was  a  fine  after  supper  glow  on  the  massive 
countenance  of  Mrs.  Fortescue  when  they  passed 
her,  bom  of  "champagne  and  chat,"  still  there 
was  an  ommous  restiveness  in  the  way  she 
glanced  around  her,  evidently  in  search  of  her 
daughter—whose  little  ways  she  well  knew— that 
foreboded  trouble. 

"Mamma's  quite  capable  of  bolting  out  of  the 
whist  room  and  catching  us  at  any  moment,  if  we 
tiy  aiiy  more  dances,"  remarked  the  intelligent 
Ellmor,  "but  it  will  take  her  some  time  to  rout 
us  out  here."     Then   ensued   ten   minutes    of 
ehsium— moments  too  sacred  and  too  sweet  to 
be  described  by  a  light  and  frivolous  pen. 
r**T"V^^  ^^^^^  was  already  approaching  this 
little  twentieth  century  Eden.     The  revengeful 
cub,  Ahck  Hastings— the  snubbed  and  jealous 
one— had    (alas!)    perceived    the    lovers    pass 
through  the  small  glass  door.     Algernon  was 
just  requesting  to  know  for  the  fifteenth  time  "if 
his  Ellinor  would  always  love  him  as  she  did 
now?    and  was  being  reassured  on  that  point, 
when  they  were  both  startled  by  the  sound  of 
voices,  and   what's  more,  by  the  voices  of  Mrs 
Fortescue,  Mrs.  Hastings  and  the  perfidious  cub 

tl'^lT'i^r  ^^^  y°"*^  ^^^  "^«l"«d  his  mother 
to  take  Mrs.  Fortescue  into  the  small  conserva- 
tory  to  show  her  some  rare  plants,  meaning  of 


The  Necklace  of  Panduka. 


85 


course,  that  Ellinor  and  his    rival    should    be 
caught  without  chance  of  escape. 

As  yet,  the  pair  were  concealed  by  the  plants 
from  the  gaze  of  the  two  old  ladies,  but  discov- 
ery, with  very  unpleasant  consequences,  was  sim- 
ply a  matter  of  time.  At  this  moment  of  almost 
despair,  Algernon's  eye  fell  on  the  furnace  room 
door,  just  beside  them.  Here  was  a  gleam  of 
hope!  In  another  moment  he  had  softly  drawn 
the  large  outside  bolt  of  the  door,  and  Ellinor 
and  he  were  inside  it,  and  for  the  time  in  safety. 
They  found  themselves  in  a  small  room  witfi 
three  steps  on  one  side  of  it,  leading  down  to 
the  great  furnace  door,  furnished  simply  with 
some  gardener's  tools,  two  or  three  old  baskets, 
and  an  immense  quantity  of  cobwebs  and  dust. 
There  was  no  other  exit  but  the  door  by  which 
they  had  entered.  It  was  as  dark  as  pitch  and 
as  hot  as  Tartarus.  Not  at  all  the  place  where 
even  two  lovers  would  enjoy  a  tete-a-tete. 
Hardly  daring  to  breathe,  they  listened  to  the 
three  intruders,  who  were  now  close  to  the  door 
that  concealed  them.  They  heard  Mrs.  Fortescue 
say:  "Lovely!  perfectly  lovely!"  (alluding  to 
some  plant),  "but  I  must  find  Ellinor.  I  haven't 
seen  her  since  before  supper.  Have  you,  Mrs. 
Hastings?"  Then  the  voice  of  the  wily  cub,  "I 
saw  her  dancin'  with  Mr.  Southcote  most  of  sup- 
per time.  Thought  I  saw  'em  come  in  here  just 
after." 

Their  hearts  stood  still.  That  malicious  youth 
evidently  knew  of  their  retreat.  Would  he  give 
them  away  at  once — or  what  would  he  do?    But 


S6 


The  Nf.cklace  or  Pandura. 


Mr.  Alick  Hastings  meant  a  better  and  deeper 
vengeance  than  anything  of  that  sort. 

They  heard  Mrs.  Fortescue  say  in  a  very  flur- 
ried manner,  "Dear!  dear  I  I  must  get  back  to 
the  ball  room  and  find  her  at  once  I" 

Then  with  chilling  horror,  they  heard  the  cub 
slowly  drawl  out,  "How  careless  of  the  gardener 
to  leave  that  door  unfastened!  Wait  till  I  bolt 
it,  Mrs.  Fortescue,  and  I'll  take  you." 

Then  he  slowly  shoved  to  the  bolt,  thoroughly 
enjoying  meanwhile  the  deep  but  muffled  execra- 
tions of  his  rival  inside. 

He  then  escorted  his  mother  and  Mrs.  For- 
tescue back  to  the  ball  room  with  a  politeness 
and  urbanity  so  unusual  in  him  that  his  mother 
had  an  immediate  suspicion  that  he  had  been  up 
to  some  mischief  or  other  beyond  the  common. 
And  so  indeed  he  had !  The  situation  of  the  im- 
pnsoned  pair  was  more  than  awkward — it  was 
awful!  Southcote,  whose  colkir  was  rapidly 
melting,  endeavored  to  console  EUinor,  whose 
hair  was  coming  out  of  curl — and  who  felt  cob- 
webs all  over  her.  Also  to  open  the  door.  He 
failed  signally  in  both  tasks. 

Realizing  what  an  awful  scrape  they  were  in, 
and  almost  prostrated  by  the  heat,  Ellinor's  high 
spirit  gave  way,  and  she  began  to  cry.  Mad- 
dened by  his  adored  one's  sobs,  the  hapless 
Southcote  made  a  furious  attack  on  that  obdurate 
door.    In  an  evil  moment  he  did  so! 

Mrs.  Fortescue  and  Mrs.  Hastings  meanwhile 
had  been  playing  the  parts  of  those  who  sought 
the  unhappy  heroine  in  the  ballad  of  "The  Old 
Oak  Chest." 


The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 


87 


*'In  the  highest,  the  lowest,  the  loneliest  spot, 
They  sought  her  wildly — but  found  her  not." 

Neither  did  they  find  Mr.  Sotithcote.  This 
simultaneous  disappearance  of  both  seemed  more 
than  ominous  to  Mrs.  Fortescue.  She  turned 
wildly  to  her  sympathizing  friend.  "They've 
eloped — I  know  they  have!"  she  cried.  "Oh, 
why  did  I  bring  her  here?  Why  did  I  bring 
her?"  This  was  overheard,  and  it  flew  like 
wildfire  through  the  "four  hundred  friends" 
that  Miss  Fortescue  had  eloped  with  Mr.  South- 
cote  and  a  pleased  and  expectant  crowd  rapidly 
gathered  round  the  two  ladies. 

It  was  at  this  crisis  that  the  malignant  cub  was 
moved  to  suggest  "That  he  was  sure  he  had  seen 
them  last  in  the  conservatoiy  which  the  two  la- 
dies had  just  left."'  Off  rushed — or  rather  wad- 
dled— the  agonized  matrons,  followed  by  a  deep- 
ly interested  throng  of  their  nearest  and  dearest 
friends,  makii  ,;  friendly  comments. 

They  entered  the  conservatory,  just  as  Mr. 
Southcote  was  in  the  loudest  stage  of  his  racket 
on  the  furnace  room  door. 

Dryly  remarking,  "That  there  seemed  to  be 
some  one  in  the  furnace  room  tnat  wanted  to  get 
out,"  the  cub  drew  the  bolt,  feeling  that  he 
hadn't  altogether  lived  in  vain  that  night. 

Poor  EUinor  emerged  first — her  lovely  face 
flushed  and  tear-stained,  covered  with  confusion 
and  cobwebs  as  with  a  garment,  and  was  at  once 
pounced  upon  by  her  incensed  mother,  who 
hissed  in  her  ear, 
"This  is  most  disgraceful  conduct,  Ellinor!" 


I 


88 


The  Necklace  of  Panduxa. 


I 


and  with  difficulty  refrained  from  shaking  ber 
"coram  publico." 

Here  followed  Algernon  Southcote  with  more 
cobwebs,  who,  feeling  that  the  eyes  of  Europe 
and  America,  so  to  speak,  were  upon  him,  thus 
explained  the  situation,  wearing  meanwhile  the 
easy  air  of  i  disconcerted  pickpocket.  "We — 
that  is — ahem ! — Very  sorry ! — ^Accident — very 
tired — ahem  I — ^got  very  warm  dancin' — came  in 
here  to  get  cool — door  bolted  itself — comin'  out 
again  in  a  minute — ahem !" 

These  excellent  reasons  for  being  found  locked 
up  within  five  feet  of  a  blazing  furnace,  were  re- 
ceived by  Mrs.  Fortescue  with  what,  in  a  lady  of 
less  aristocratic  demeanor,  would  be  called  a 
snort,  as  she  marched  away,  keeping  her  daugh- 
ter in  close  custody. 

How  poor  EUinor  passed  through  the  throng 
and  got  upstairs,  she  never  knew. 

Her  mother,  too,  remembered  the  comments — 
the  pleasing  and  audible  comments — of  their 
"dear  five  hundred  friends,"  such  as  "If  she  was 
my  daughter,  I'd  send  her  abroad  at  once." 
"Locked  up  with  him  all  the  evening  I  dear — 
dear!"  "What  a  funny  place  to  hide  in!"  "Well, 
if  I  had  to  lock  a  man  up  to  keep  him  from  run- 
ning away  from  me,  I'd  rather  not  have  it  found 
out!"  (This  last  from  a  vivacious  and  piratical 
young  widow,  Mrs.  Fortescue's  pet  aversion.) 

Then  just  as  she  passed  the  ball  room  door,  a 
matron  of  position  and  social  importance  leaned 
towards  her,  and  said:  "I  suppose,  dear  Mrs. 
Fortescue,  the  engagement  will  be  announced 
now?" 


ht 


The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 


89 


This  was  the  last  straw.  EUinor  had  a  very 
bad  time  of  it  driving  home  afterwards. 

Meanwhile  Algernon,  turning  on  the  cub,  and 
casting  aside  all  conventional  scruples,  requested 
him  in  a  hoarse  voice  *'to  come  out  into  tlie 
shrubbery  for  five  min  ues."  The  cub  had  no  ob- 
jections— none  in  the  least.  So  there.,  on  the 
frozen  ground,  under  a  starry  sky,  and  in  the 
midst  of  a  mob  of  enthusiastic  cabmen,  the  two 
went  at  each  other  like  tigers.  At  the  end  of 
about  fifteen  minutes  fortune  favored  the  right- 
eous cause,  and  Mr.  Alexander  Hastings  was 
"knocked  out."  He  looked,  as  one  of  the  cab- 
bies remarked  at  the  time,  "as  if  some  helephant 
'ad  been  'avin  a  game  with  'im." 

Algernon  was  also  somewhat  damaged,  but 
feeling  somewhat  relieved  at  having  paid  his 
enemy  out  pretty  well,  sought  his  solitary  rooms 
with  the  despairing  conviction  that  Ellinor  was 
lost  to  him  forever.  But  this  was  just  where  he 
was  mistaken. 

When  Mrs.  Fortescue  grew  calm,  the  matter 
presented  itself  to  her  husband  and  herself  as 
one  that  couldn't  be  settled  by  packing  Ellinor 
ofT  on  a  long  penetential  visit  to  some  spinster 
aunt  or  on  that  trip  to  Europe  which  seems  to 
be  the  usual  recipe  for  causing  trans-Atlantic 
maidens  to  forget  impecunious  lovers. 

Ellinor,  who  was  a  high-spirited  girl  (and  be- 
tween ourselves  worth  three  of  Algernon,  though 
he  was  a  good  fellow  enough,  as  men  go)  stuck 
to  her  colors.  She  declared  that  "Never!  no 
never — ^under    any    circumstances     whatever — 


^ 


The  Necklac£  of  Pandusa. 


I 


I* 


P 


would  she  wed  another,"  and  looked  as  if  she 
meant  it. 

Last  and  most  decisive,  that  remark  made  by 
that  matron  of  position  as  they  left  the  ball,  viz. : 
"That  she  supposed  the  engagement  would  be 
announced  nowT  had  sank  deeply  into  Mrs. 
Fortescue's  aristocratic  soul.  After  all,  South- 
cote  was  a  gentleman,  and  liad  neither  pedlar 
or  washerwoman  amouj,  at  any  rate,  his  recent 
ancestors.  Also,  he  had  no  bad  habits,  and 
though  his  present  income  was  small,  would  be 
sure  to  "get  on."  Besides,  they  always  meant 
to  «ve  EUinor  plenty. 

So  just  six  months  after  that  eventful  ball. 
Miss  EUinor  Fortescue,  exquisitely  attired  in 
bridal  array,  with  sweet  and  calm  composure  in 
every  movement,  marched,  leaning  on  her  fath- 
er's arm,  down  the  aisle  towards  the  expectant 
and  frightfully  nervous  Algernon  and  his  best 
man,  while  the  choir  sang  "The  voice  that 
breathed  o'er  Eden." 

The  discomfited  cub  was  among  the  spectators 
and  didn't  think  himself  quite  so  clever  as  he  did 
one  night  six  months  before. 

How  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Southcote  got  on  after- 
wards, I  really  don't  know. 


H 


Tbe  Necklace  of  Pandura. 


91 


"RURAL  CULl  URE." 

(A  Comedietta.) 

An  "Advisory  Committee"  at  work  choosing 
books  for  the  Public  Library  of  a  small 
Country  Town. 

DRAMATIS   PERSONAE. 

Mrs.  Dasher  Swift — Third  rate  fashionable. 
Sham  culturisl.  Much  admired  leader  of 
"Our  Set"  in  the  village.  Prefers  on  all 
occasions  fiction  to  fact. 

Mrs.  Porker  Swipes — Also  fashionable  and  fab- 
ricative.  Has  great  literary  reputation  on 
the  ground  of  having  once  badgered  the 
editor  of  a  fifth-rate  magazine  into  accepting 
an  outrage  on  English  grammar  perpetrated 
by  her.  Is  about  sixty,  and  very  kittenish 
and  juvenile. 

Looney  Lulu — Local  poetess.  Contributes  weird 
wanderings  to  the  corners  of  country  news- 
papers. 

Mrs.  Barker  Snarl — Old  married  lady.  Brusque, 
unkempt,  and  distinctly  "cracked."  Op- 
poses everything  and  everybody  on  princi- 
ple. 

Mrs.  Jerry  McCheek — ^Young  married  lady. 
Bumptious,     and     superlatively     ignorant. 


H 


I 


ft; 

If 


90  The  Necklace  of  Panduea. 

Great  follower  and  admiref  of  Mrs.  Dasher 
Swift. 

Mrs.  Githar  Strate— Well-to-do  fanner's  wife. 
Honestly  and  frankly  ignorant  on  all  liter- 
ary matters,  but  nevertheless  knowing  quite 
as  much  about  them  as  any  of  the  rest.  Put 
on  the  Advisory  Committee  to  conciliate  the 
farming  interest. 

Cynthia  Orelia — Daughter  of  the  above. 

The  Old  Librarian. 

Scene— The  Town  Public  Library. 

The  ladies  seated  with  piles  of  volumes  of  all 
sorts  on  the  tables  before  and  around  them. 

Mrs.  Dasher  Smft—"Noyf,  ladies,  we'll  get 
through  with  the  Heavy  Prigade  first.  The 
books  on  Theology,  Scienc, ,  "•olitics.  Religion- 
all  those  slow  sort  of  subjects — serious  subjects, 
I  mean,  Mrs.  Snarl,  so  you  needn't  object.  We 
can  run  them  through  to-night.  In  fact,  if  we 
rushed  things,  we  might  get  through  Biography, 
Travels,  and  Poetry  besides.  Then  we  can  put 
off  the  Novels — Fiction,  you  know — till  next 
meeting.  They'll  take  a  long  time.  Require  real 
serious  consideration,  you  know.  Besides,  we 
want  to  read  all  the  up-to-date  books  before  we 
let  those  sewing  girls  and  common  people  put 
their  paws  on  'em. 

Mrs.  Jerry  McCheek— "That's  the  only  good 
of  being  on  an  Advisory  Committee.  I  never 
read  any  but  the  new  books,  because  one  has  to 
just  read  them — or  look  through  them  anyway. 
Just  to  be  able  to  say  one  has  read  'em.    But  to 


The  Necklace  of  Pamdusa. 


93 


read  a  book  that's  been  pawed  all  over  by  those 
common  females  sends  creeps  up  and  down  my 
back.    I'm  that  nervous  and  refined  i" 

Mrs.  Barker  Sfwrl — "Are  ye  indeed?  But 
you're  right  about  the  new  books.  Besides,  ii 
there's  any  of  them  that's  a  little — ^well  queer  or 
risky  like — we  can  read  'em  ourselves,  and  then 
say  they  ain't  fit  for  the  rest  to  read." 

Mrs.  Githar  Strate—"T\aX's  sol" 

Looney  Lulu — "And  some  of  the  most  en- 
thralling— the  most  subtly  and  sensuously  en- 
trancing of  poesy  is  by  no  means  suited  for  the 
coarse  criticisms  of  the  vulgar  herd." 

Mrs.  Jerry  McCheek — "I  just  adore  the  more 
subtle  sorts  of  poetry!  McPercy  Snapper,  who's 
spending  his  vacation  here,  is  what  he  calls  in- 
doctrinatin'  me  in  the  higher  kinds  of  emotions. 
He's  puffeckly  splendid,  and  too  cute  to  live. 
Why  he's  been  rusticated  from  his  University  1 
Told  me  so  himself.  That's  what  a  man's  col- 
lege does  with  him  when  he's  too  smart  for  any- 
thing." 

Mrs.  Githar  Strate  (loudly) — ^"Mr.  Snapper's 
quite  tuk  up  with  our  Cynthinany  Orelia.  Comes 
to  our  house  three  times  a  week,  an'  stops  till  all 
hours." 

Mrs.  Jerry  McCheek  (proceeding  scornfully) 
— ^"We  were  out  for  a  paddle — canoe  paddle,  I 
rncan — only  last  evenin',  and  reallv  it  was  so  im- 
provin'  you  can't  tell!  He  quoted  especial  from 
Shelley,  Browning,  and  Swinburne.  I  remem- 
ber one  sweet  piece  from  Swinburne  he  recited, 
'cause  he  said  the  description  was  so  like  me — 


94  The  Necklace  of  Panduia. 

"Soft  lids  that  hide  eyes  like  a  jewel. 
Hard  eyes  that  grow  soft  for  an  hour, 
The  heavy  white  limbs,  and  the  cruel 
Red  mouth  like  a  poisonous  flower." 

*-if  fu  ^'*''*'''  '^"^'•'-"Well,  he  had  a  nerve  to 
talk  that  way  to  a  young  married  lady !" 

,uJ''  {T^,  McCheek-"V^hy,  Mrs.  Snarl, 
thats  culcherf  Thus  do  refined  and  congenial 
souls  commune  together,  Mr.  Snapper  says  Vul- 
gar mmds  can  never  know  such  refining  inter- 
courses. Mr.  Snapper  told  me  he  needs  the  sup- 
port of  a  congenial  bein'  like  me.  He  says  L 
nnds  me  so  sustainin'  I" 

Mrs.  Barker  5"noW— "Humph  I" 

Mrs.  Githar  Sirate  (not  to  be  suppressed)— 

n„/r  M'  ^^^'^'  ^'■-  Snapper's  so  tuk  up  with 
our  Cynthiana  Orelia,  an'  last  week  he  atted  her 
to  study  Brownin'.  Sed  she  jest  hed  to,  if  she 
wanted  to  acquire  culcher.  So  Cynthiana  she 
tuk  a  holt  on  Brownin',  an'  the  effects  on  that 
pore  child  was  jest  turr'ble.  Fer  more'n  a  week 
she  kept  gom  round  in  a  blind  sort  of  way.  She'd 
walk  over  the  chum,  an'  into  the  barb  wire  fen- 
cin  There  was  times  when  I  trembled  fer  her 
mtellecs.    I  did  so !" 

Mrs.  Dasher  Swift-''Is  your  daughter  deli- 
cate, ma  am  ?    ^^he  don't  look  it" 

Mrs.  Githar  Strate— "Oh,  no!  Most  mdelicate. 
ma  am,  I  assure  you!  She  looks  sorter  blind 
and  set  down  now,  'cause  she's  in  company,  but 
when  she  s  with  her  playmate,  you  can  hear  her 
acrost  a  hundred  acre  lot." 


The  Nbck  .ace  ov  Pandusa. 


95 


Mrs.  Dasher  Swift~-"She's  quite  a  fille  dc 
Joie  in  fact,  Mrs.  Strate." 

Mrs.  Githar  Strats  (puziled,  but  flattered)— 
"Yes,  indeed,  she  is,  Mrs.  Swift,  an'  all  the 
neighbors  says  so,  too !  An'  I  know  how  to  sym- 
perthise  with  her  about  Brownin',  for  Mr.  Snap- 
per he  atted  me  to  read  Herb.  Spencer's— the 
great  philosopher  and  scienter's— 'Soshul 
Statics,'  an'  before  I'd  worried  through  half  a 
paffe  I  felt  like  a  lost  dog!" 

Mrs.  Porker  Szvipes  (bursting  out  into  a  flood 
of  erudition; — Crowning's  a  great  poet!  The 
Greek  note  is  not  so  perdominant  in  his  work  as 
in  Mathew  Arnold's — but  he's  fine!  D'you 
know,  he'd  a  wife  who  wrote  poetry,  too.  Mrs. 
Flamcult  lectured  us  about  her  in  Boston.  She 
wrote  Casa  Guidi  Windows,  and  other  poems. 
They're  fine,  but  not  so  good  as  her  husband's, 
of  course." 

Looney  Lulu  (interrupting) — "All  mod  m 
poesy  seems  to  me  to  lack  depth.  That  sound- 
ing of  the  sad  minor  cliord  of  life's  sweet  song 
that  wails  uninterruptedly  throughout  our  ex- 
istences.    (Murmurs  abstractedly.) 

"Ah,  me  1  Ah,  me !  Ah  woe  is  me ! 

I  moan  like  the  drone  of  a  bumble  bee  !** 

Mrs.  Barker  Snarl  (in  a  loud  whisper) — 
"She's  composin'  a  pome  about  that  ham  and 
pork  man  that  went  round  with  her  all  summer, 
an'  cleared  out  without  proposin' !" 

Mrs.  Dasher  Sun  ft  (impatiently) — "Come,  la- 
dies, let's  get  on!     We've    got    theology    and 


. 


0  The  Nbcklacb  or  Pandusa. 

phflosophy  before  us  yet  Let's  take  aQ  those 
t>oolcs  on  the  table  here  before  us  in  a  heap. 
(Carried  unanimously.)  Now,  here's  all  the 
new  books  on  theolop^r.   Gracious,  what  a  heap  I" 

Mrs.  Porker  Smpes  (with  a  happy  inspira- 
npn)— "Let's  leave  the  choice  to  the  Reverend 
Hiram  Snort.  He's  the  only  one  that  reads  'em." 
(Proposal  agreed  to  with  enthusiasm.  Theology 
kid  aside  for  professional  examination.) 

Mrs.  Dasher  Swift~-"Stop\  Here's  Bunyan't 
•PUgrim's  Progress.'  We  can  pass  that  anyhow. 
When  I  was  in  Lunnon  lawst  yeah,  the  deah  old 
Bishop  of  Lincoln  told  me  that  Bimyan— though 
unhappily  a  dissenter— was  a  'sine  quam  on'  (I 
think  he  said)  in  every  theological  library." 

Mrs.  Jerry  McCheek— "Who's  Bunnions?" 

Mrs.  Barker  5«aW—" 'Pilgrim's  Progress!'  I 

¥aess  that  ought  to  go   among   'Voyaecs    and 
ravels,'  Mrs.  Swift'^ 

Mrs.  Dasher  Swift— "Oh,  no  I  The  Bishop 
explained  to  me  that  it  was  a  great  religious  alle- 
gation or  allegory— or  alligator,  perhaps  (gig- 
fles).  Now,  let's  get  at  science  and  philosophy, 
here's  twice  as  much  of  that  as  there  is  of  re- 
ligion." 

Mrs.    Githar   Strate    f  despondently) "Well 

never  git  through  that  pile  in  a  dog's  age  I" 

Mrs.  Dasher  Swift  (cheerfully).MDh,  I  don't 
know!  S'pose  we  take  'em  in  lots.  Here's  all 
Huxley's  works,  Tyndall's,  Herbert  Spencer's 
Drummonds',  Balfour's  book  (we  must  have 
that,  because  he  was  the  English  premier),  and 
lots  more.    Well,  about  Huxley?" 

Mrs.  Barker  Snarl— "I've  beam  he's  unsettlin' 


The  Necklace  of  Panduea. 


57 


and  infidellstic.    I  guess  he  won't  fill  the  bill  for 
this  hberv." 

Mrs.  basher  Swift— "Oh,  yes,  he  will,  Mrs. 
Snarl.  Dcah  Lord  Kewin  explained  all  about 
him  and  his  writings  to  me  in  Lunnon  lawst 
yeah.  He  discovered  the  molecular  vibrations  of 
light. 

Mrs.  Porker  Swtpes— "Yes,  and  the  inverte- 
brate vibrations  of  sound  waves  which  transposes 
themselves  over  the  universe." 

Mrs.  Githar  Strale  (greatly  impressed)— 
"No!    Is  that  so?" 

Mrs.  Dasher  i'zti//— "Besides,  Lord  Rosebcry 
told  me  that  the  King  (he  was  Prince  of  Wales 
then)  went  to  his  funeral!"  (General  sensa- 
tion. Huxley's  works  admitted  "nem  con.") 
„  ^r*-  ^'^/'t""  Strate  (with  fine  impartiality)— 
"T'ain't  fair  not  to  give  the  others  a  show.  Let's 
take  all  the  other  scientists  in.  (Agreed  to.  All 
the  scientific  writers  admitted.) 

Mrs.  Jerry  McCheek  (looking  at  her  watch)— 
My!  It's  near  twelve!  Weii,  I  think  we  done 
puffeckly  splendid !" 

Mrs.  Dasher  Swift— "Indttd  v/e  have !  Well, 
ladies,  we  can  break  up  now.  We'll  have  all  the 
next  evening  for  the  novels." 

(They  break  up,  and  depart  conversi'{,.) 

The  old  librarian,  as  he  locks  the  library  door, 
murmurs  softly  to  himself: 

"A  little  knowledge  is  a  dangerous  thing, 
Drink  deep,  or  taste  rot  of  the  Pierian  spring." 


, 


The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 


m 


H 


i  i 


ii 


"UNKNOWN  FORCES." 

A  young  literary  friend  of  mine,  Ronald  Les- 
lie, once  told  me  a  very  queer,  perhaps  I  should 
say  almost  incredible,  story. 

He  was  a  young  man  who  had  gained  consid- 
erable fugitive  celebrity  as  an  apt  and  sometimes 
brilliant  writer  in  various  leading  magazines; 
and  would  have  got  more  if  it  had  not  been  for  ' 
the  somewhat  mystical  turn  of  his  mind,  which 
sometimes  led  him  into  writing  articles  on  occult 
and  out  of  the  way  subjects,  such  as  "Undevel- 
oped Forces  in  Nature,"  "Facts  and  Frauds  of 
Spiritualism,"  and  topics  of  a  kindred  nature. 
Some  of  these,  the  editors  of  the  said  leading 
magazines,  while  admiring  their  style  and  the 
forcible  and  intelligible  English  in  which  they 
were  written  (for  this  latter  quality  is,  in  these 
days  of  "Journalese"  and  ungrammatical  femi- 
nine fluency,  becoming  quite  valuable)  were  com- 
pelled to  reject,  as  being  "caviare  to  the  multi- 
tude." They  would  then  beg  him  to  turn  his  at- 
tention to  "live  subjects,"  such  as  the  biography 
of  some  multi-millionaire,  whose  lambent  genius 
had  just  inspired  him  to  comer  the  market  in 
lard,  and  who  still  printed  his  signature  in  scram- 
bling capital  letters,  not  having  condescended  to 
acnuire  the  trivial  accomplishment  of  writing 
current  hand. 


ri 


The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 


99 


While  smarting  under  a  more  than  usual  -in- 
flection  of  excellent  advice  of  this  nature,  Leslie 
said  to  me  suddenly  as  we  were  sitting  in  my 
study  one  evening  (we  had  been  talking  about 
animal  magnetism,  occult  forces,  etc.)  : 

"Well,  I  know — personally  kv.ow — of  a  case, 
an  awful  proof  of  the  existence  of  these  'un- 
known forces,'  which,  if  I  dared  publish  an  ac- 
count of  it,  would  rather  astonish  the  materialis- 
tic and  superficial  inhabitants  of  this  city  of  New 
York.  It  happened  in  this  very  city,  too,  and 
not  three  years  ago.  I've  longed  to  let  them 
have  it  often  I" 

"Why  don't  you?"  I  asked. 

"Well,"  he  answered  reflectively,  "there  are 
reasons  why  it  would  be  imprudent  to  tel!  it  all. 
A  very  dreadful  tragedy  it  was,  and  the  public 
would  never  believe  how  it  happened." 

"If  you  tell  me,  I  promise  to  believe  every 
word,"  I  said  somewhat  eagerly. 

"Well,  I  feel  just  now  as  if  I  must  inflict  the 
tale  on  somebody,"  replied  Leslie,  laughing,  "so 
you  shall  hear  it."  But  not  to  tell  again  till  I 
give  you  leave,  for,  mind  you,  it's  true— too 
true!" 

"I  promise,"  said  I.    "Go  on  with  your  story." 

"You  may  have  observed,"  he  began,  "certain 
meetings  of  myself  and  a  few  friends  three  years 
ago,  for  the  purpose  of  investigating  various 
occult  phenoriena — in  which,  without  actually 
believing  in  them — we  had  taken  deep  interest, 
and  concerning  which  I  often  spoke  to  you  at 
that  time  with  enthusiasm." 

"I  remember  well,"  I  said,  "what  strange  no- 


. 


too  The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 


i^ 


n 


'n 


tions  you  were  getting  into  your  head  at  that 
time,  and  I  often  wondered  why  these  meetings 
terminated  so  suddenly;  why  Louis  Rostoffchin, 
that  singular  Russian  'savant'  who  came  irom 
nowhere  in  particular,  and  whom  all  you  'illumi- 
nati'  swore  by,  disappeared  into  the  unknown  as 
suddenly  as  he  had  appeared.  If  you  remember, 
I  questioned  you  at  the  time  about  some  of  these 
things;  but  you  were  so  strangely  gloomy,  so 
self-absorbed— in  fact,  so  changed  from  your 
usual  self  for  a  time,  and  moreover  so  very 
touchy  when  I  even  hinted  at  the  subject,  that  I 
had  to  leave  it  and  you  severely  alone." 

"Well,  you  are  going  to  hear  all  about  it  now  " 
replied  Leslie,  "abr,i;t  the  Russian  Louis  RostoflF- 
chin  and  his— disappearance,'  he  went  on,  turning 
pale,  and  shivering  as  if  a  cold  draught  had  sud- 
denly blown  upon  him.  "You  remember  then," 
he  proceeded,  "at  this  time  that  we  spoke  of  a 
certain  circle  of  literary  and  scientific  friends, 
male  and  female,  who  met  often  at  each  other's 
houses,  to  hold  'seances'  (to  adopt  a  name  so  vul- 
garized by  spiritualistic  impostors)  for  the  pur- 
pose, if  possible,  of  investigating  or  finding  out 
what  we  could  know  here  of  the  other  world  and 
its  conditions." 

"We  all  began  in  a  spirit  of  curiosity  and  of 
virtual  skepticism,  but  before  long  our  moods  all 
changed  (it  was  impossible  to  help  it,  considering 
the  strange  mysteries  that  we  gained  tantalizing 
glimpses  of),  and  some  of  us,  at  any  rate,  were 
ready  to  go  to  any  lengths  almost  to  solve  these 
enigmas.  We  had  begun  by  the  processes  usu- 
ally employed  by  the  spiritualists,  but  had  soon 


The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 


lOI 


got  into  mysterious  regions  far  beyond  the  trivial 
puerile  rappings  and  table  turnings  of  these  peo- 
ple. 

"Well,  we  went  too  far,  and  the  awful  catas- 
trophe which  ensued  made  us  all  see  how  dan- 
gerous was  the  path  we  were  treading  on,  and 
convinced  me  a«t  any  rate  that  it  is  not  the  will 
of  the  Almighty  that  we  should  penetrate  the 
secrets  of  the  world  beyond  the  grave  before  our 
time — so  terrible  are  the  guards  and  perils  He 
has  placed  in  the  way  of  any  real  attempt  to  mas- 
ter them. 

"Our  party  on  that  eventful  night  consisted  of, 
first,  our  host,  Mr.  Adams,  an  immensely  wealthy 
business  man,  a  man  moreover  of  clear  brain,  and 
possessed  of  a  great  deal  of  what  Huxley  aptly 
terms  'that  common  ignorance  which  is  called 


common  sense. 


He  was  the  last  man  you  would  suspect  of  a 
tendency  to  mysticism,  but  there  he  was  among 
us  nevertheless,  and  a  most  useful  member  of  our 
circle  he  was,  representing  always  the  useful  re- 
straining element  in  it — 'who  put  down  enthusi- 
asm,' and  who  insisted  on  reasonable  evidence 
before  considering  any  theory,  however  beauti- 
ful and  consoling. 

"Then  there  was  Doctor  Creswell,  one  of  the 
first  men  in  the  city,  a  great  physicia:i  ..nd  sci- 
entific discoverer ;  a  man  not  holding  by  the  ten- 
ets of  orthodox  religion,  but  one  whose  mind  was 
clear,  and  whose  life  was  beautiful.  Like  many 
others  of  his  scientific  brothers,  his  best  strength 
and  efforts  were  given  to  help  and  benefit  other 
men;  and  he  formed  as  conspicuous  an  example 


iL 


iv 

[Ml 


aoa         The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 

wwSfh^'^^M^TT'^  ^y  ^*t  Christian  creed 
which  he  could  not  altogether  accept,  as  many  of 
the  so-called  disciples  of  that  creed  do  of  sdfish 
disregard  of  its  very  first  principles. 

1  hen  there  was  myself,  and  my  youn?  wife 
Clara.  You  know  us  both  well  enough  to  esMtS 
any  description  of  us  from  me         ^  ^ 

•'But  you  should  know  that  my  dear  Clara 

r^e^S  ir^'"^*'"^"  temperament  was  in  many  r?' 
spects  the  counterpart  of  my    own,    had    been 

trance    or   mediumistic'  facu  ty.     It  is  bv  this 

tie'Z'  '"^•^^'"  .^^""'"^'  '^'^  power!  that  aS 
!?J-  ^"ture  discoveries  of  that  dread  knowledee 
wh^ch  I  shall  seek  to  learn  no  more,   Si  % 

tha't^^'inmi'r"?'  *r''  ^"'•^fi^  °"-  sittings  felt 
v^hichlfit.'^^'^l^  "■^Pi"S:  on  sleepiness 
wftich  IS  the  sure  forerunner  of  the  magnetic 

^I^uk'k  ^?"^  ^^*  "i^ht  (thank  HeavensTher 
usually  m  the  best  conditbn.  were  a   littl*.   „« 
s  steTthat  \'h''  ^t^,M-  AdamT^nd  mysdf  1^: 
ceenLl  !  '^\sh°"W  take  no  part  in  the  pro- 
ceedings except  as  a  spectator.  ^ 
.     Another  present  that  night  was  Robert  Hast 

^ReZ  ""^^'1°.^  *U^"*  ^"^  celebrUy,  who  had 
travelled  much  m  Europe  and  the  East  had 
mixed  m  much  of  the  best  society  in  Europe- but 
who  also  had  been  led  by  his  love  of  occultism 

Z  ol tl'^m'''^^^'''  *^"*h''  into TsS 
ety  of  some  of  the  cleverest,  most  daring  and 

most  unscrupu  ous  men  in  the  world-'wolves 

of  mtellect/  flying  at  the  throat  of  civilizadonl 


The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 


103 


Nihilists,  Anarchists  and,  if  possible,  still  more 
advanced  sons  of  havoc  and  destruction.  It  was 
he  who  had  introduced  the  ill-fated  Russian 
Rostoffchin  to  our  circle,  as  'a  man  of  mighty 
and  comprehensive  knowledge  in  all  that  was 
known  of  occultism — as  indeed  he  was. 

"Last  of  our  circle — save  his  sister — and  most 
prominent  on  that  last  night,  was  the  Russian 
savant,  Louis  Rostoffchin.  A  great  savant  he 
truly  was,  and  a  great  noble  he  had  been.  This 
much  we  knew  of  him  for  certain.  He  had  lost 
estates,  and  well  nigh  life  for  the  cause  of  Nihil- 
ism, and  had  all  the  almost  maniacal  thirst  for 
the  destruction  of  all  existing  creeds,  govern- 
ments, and  civilizations,  which — strange  phe- 
nomenon of  the  age — is  so  often  found  in- 
grained in  the  very  nature  of  many  educated  and 
intellectual  Russians.  He  was  tall,  dark,  very 
handsome,  and  had  most  expressive  eyes,  which 
in  times  of  excitement  glittered  with  a  strange 
wild  fire.  He  spoke  Jlnglish  fluently,  and  like 
many  educated  Russians,  six  or  eight  other 
languages.  We  found  soon  that  he  was  far 
deeper  in  the  secrets  of  occultism  and  telepathy 
than  we  had  yet  any  hope  of  penetrating,  but  we 
knew  not  how  deep  and  terrible  his  knowledge 
was  till  that  awful  night. 

"His  sister.  Vera  Rostoffchin,  a  most  beautiful 
and  intellectual  girl,  was  also    that    rarest    and 
most  gifted  of  mortal  women — 
in  a  century  or  so — known  as  ' 
or  'pythoness,'  as  the  ancien 
of  these  peculiarly  endowed 


being  bom  once 

Tfect  medium,' 

eks  called  one 

Her  love 


men. 


for  her  brother  was  something  beautiful.     She 


v',« 


i<H  The  Nkcklace  of  Pandura. 

had  known  his  sacrifices  and  sufferings  for  what 
tji^r"^l  °**'"  educated  Russfan  women. 
kL^  ^u^^^  *°  *=°"^'^«''  *he  noWest  of  causes 
Naturally  the  most  gentle  and  compassionate  of 
women,  she  nevertheless  approved  of-or  at  least 
acquiesced  in-the  most  ferocious  and  crue 
schemes  of  her  brother,  who,  we  found  out  af- 
terwards, was  a  member  of  the  terrible  'Inner 
Qrcle'  of  the  NihUists.  She  was  his  chief  asS 
ant  m  his  researches  into  the  mysteries  of  occult- 

IwlJJa 

*iZ^^  pursued  these  researches  from  no  scien- 
tific curiosity,  or  with  the  idea  of  adding  new  re- 

StTf  ^"'-m"^  ?"°""'  *°  *he  myrSd  creeds 
that  have  bewildered  poor  humanity,  but  solely 

\%7n^fr'  *°,'=°'"P«hend  and,  if  ^ssible,  util- 
ze  for  their  potent  and  awful  powerVof  destruc- 

tS.  ''T'u  ^"'^^^^  For4'  as   he   termed 

them,  of  whose  existence  and  terrible  and  as  yet 

uncontrollable  power  he  had  become  dimly  awaVe. 

Little  did  any  of  us  dream  what  the  awful 

wfth  *thf  h'  ""'"'P*  ''  ^^^  ^'^''^  pair  to  S 
with  the  dangerous  secrets  and  sinister  undis- 
covered forces  which  lurk  within  the  confine  of 

M  u!?'"'*/°,''  ^^*  °^  a  better  term  call  'The 
world  beyond  the  grave.' 

iJI^it^^Tt"^'  I  must  think  by  some  most  evil 
W?i/A?  °t}^^  "'S^^^  ^^en  we  met  at  the 
house  of  Mr.  Adams,  the  minds  of  most  of  «a 
had  all  that  day  been  directed  to  traiLTthough? 
concerning  primitive  violence,  thoughts  of  Se 
days  when  prehistoric  man  was  half  a  wUd  b^ 

wiJilf  J?"^'"*?^  *^^  I'r"  '"  ^«  nature  besiS, 
which  IS  wanting  m  the  fiercest  wHd  animal 


i' 


Thb  Necklace  of  Pandura. 


lo; 


**Hastmgs,  for  instance,  had  been  engapetl  on 
a  picture  of  Cave  Men — ^the  prehistoric  half  brute 
inhabitants  of  Europe— engaged  in  battle.  In 
the  picturfe  one  tribe  was  storming  the  rude 
stronghold  of  another,  and  with  their  primitive 
weapons  and  primitive  ferocity,  were  hacking 
and  tearing  to  pieces  men,  women  and  children. 

"I  had  been  engaged  on  one  of  a  series  of  short 
stories  founded  on  early  and  striking  historic 
events  on  the  continent  of  America.  I  had  thus 
been  led  through  the  majestic  pages  of  Prescott 
to  the  blood-stained  rites  and  human  sacrifices  of 
Mexico,  when  half-demon  men  worshipped  a 
demon  god,  and  by  means  of  the  wonderful  pic- 
ture-creating pen  of  Parkman,  who  excels  even 
MacAulay  in  placing  before  his  reader  the  exact 
image  of  the  event  or  locality  he  describes,  I  had 
vividly  brought  before  me  the  incredible  cruel- 
ties and  fiendish  attributes  of  the  Red  Indian  of 
North  America — ^that  survival  of  the  Stone  Age. 

"Louis  Rostoflfchin  that  night  seemed  ani- 
mated and  happy  to  a  degree  so  far  beyond  what 
his  self-contained  and  repressive  nature  ever 
suffered  to  appear,  that  as  I  was  speaking  to  his 
sister  before  the  'seance'  began,  I  laughingly  pro- 
nounced him  to  be  what  the  Scotch  call  'fey,'  and 
explained  what  was  meant  by  that  term. 

"You  mean  that  when  a  man's  nature  sud- 
denly changes,'  she  said,  deeply  interested,  and 
with  an  interest  which  seemed  to  me  to  partake 
of  the  nature  of  fear,  'that  when  a  melancholy 
man  becomes  all  at  once  gay,  when  a  naturally 
reserved  man  becomes  all  at  once  sociable,  with- 
out any  adequate  reason  for  it,  it  means  that  some 


1 
i 
t 


I 


i\ 


III 


m 


io6         The  Nkcxlace  of  Pandura. 

great  change  for  good  or  evU  is  soon  to  take 
place  in  his  hfe— and,  since  this  is  an  evU  world, 
in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  for  evil.' 

'    J^?'  *^  ^*^?^*^^  Highlanders  say,'  I  answered, 
and  Its  astonishing  how  often  the  so-called  su- 
perstition has  been  observed  to  come  true." 

Yes,  and  this  wild   flow   of   spirits   is   so 
strange—so  unnaturally  strange— in  my  broth- 
er s  case,  she  interrupted.    'You  know  how  quiet, 
absorbed,  even  gloomy,  he  generally  is.    He  is 
never  like  this  unless  he  thinks  himself  on  the 
^.^^J    ^°^t  ^V\  discoveries  in  "Occultism," 
ItS^^'^'h^^f  Unknown  Forces,'  as   he   calls 
them.      Mr.    Leslie,'    she    suddenly   exclaimed, 
promise  me  that  to-night  you  will  not  let  the 
other  gentlemen  try  any  experiments  outside  the 
ordinary  ones— the  ones  that  are   at    any    rate 
harmless  and  not  impious,  while  I  am  in  the  mag- 
netic sleep !'  * 

"  'Why  do  you  ask  this?'  I  questioned,  for  the 
beauuful  girl  seemed  deeply  i^n  earnest.' while  I 
had  been  speaking  in  jest. 

thU  'Sf ''^""^  ^^«  ^«t  time  my  brother  was  like 
this  (it  was  m  Pans  just  before  the  kiUine  what 
we  patriots  call  the  execution  of  the  Czar  Alexan- 
Sfn^;  •"?/  similarly  excited,  and  talked  as  he 
did  to-night  of  these  'Unknown  Forces.'  He 
^id  they  were  powers  which,  if  their  nature  was 
7^°Zt'  ^""^J^  i^  "^^^  ^"°^"  ^^ow  to  direct  them 
tii!?-^"?-  ^^«<^t""ty  are  directed  now,  would 
make  their  discoverer  the  master  of  the  world. 

he  wn£7^.  '^  ^^?"^''  ^^  '*^d,  'to  slay  whom 
St  *«  i  **  ^7  "^''^t^^^^'  ^'^  absolute  impun- 
ity, to  throw  down  the  walls  of   fortresses^  to 


The  Necklace  of  Panduea. 


«oz 


shatter  fleets,  to  even  remove  or  divert  Nature's 
barriers,  such  as  mountains  and  rivers.  He 
would  command  powers  more  potent  than  those 
of  the  fabled  genii  of  Eastern  tales  and  tradition, 
which  he  explained  were  mere  allegories  to  ex- 
plain the  mastery,  or  partial  mastery,  of  these 
powers  by  learned  men. 

"'But  unlike  the  physical  forces  hitherto  dis- 
covered by  mankind,  these  were  spiritual  unseen 
forces — only  to  be  controlled  by  the  strength  or 
wisdom  of  each  individual  soul.  Thus  they  could 
never  become — like  steam  or  electricity — the  ser- 
vants of  mankind,  as  a  whole.  But  one  in  a 
thousand — perhaps  in  ten  thousand — could  ever 
control  them  at  all ;  and  then  at  uncertain  times, 
imder  uncertain  conditions,  and  at  the  risk  of 
dreadful  and  ever  present  perils.  That  time  in 
Paris — I  cannot  tell  you  of  the  awful  danger,  of 
the  narrow  escape,  of  the  haunting  fear  ever 
since  that  my  brother  may  renew  his  presumptu- 
ous experiments! 

'"To  seek  to  know  of  the  welfare  of  our 
friends  in  another  world,  and  to  learn  what  we 
can  of  the  nature  of  their  existences  there,  is 
natural,  and  cannot  be  displeasing  to  God,  for 
He  gave  us  our  aflfections.  But  to  presumptu- 
ously seek  dread  secrets,  dread  powers  of  de- 
struction, meant  only  to  be  known  in  worlds  be- 
yond the  grave,  when  we  are  wiser,  stronger  and 
more  able  to  deal  with  such  mighty  forces,  must 
bring  peril  and  destruction  on  the  rash  intruder 
in  unknown  roads.  And  this  my  brother  is  try- 
ing to  do  I  He  will  try  to-night — if  you  and  the 
others  do  not  stop  him.' 


I 


I 


;i 


h 


108         Th«  Nicxlacb  of  Panduia. 

"I  promised  her  I  would  do  what  I  could,  and 
1  m^.t  honestly  and  earnestly  to  keep  my  prom- 
it.*'.  Z  '^%**f*  *5  ^*^.™*^  *<>  "*P«<=*  *«<»  admire 
this  beautiful  and  gifted  girl,  and  I  was  quite 

ccrtam  moreover,  that— mistaken  or  not— she 
believed  every  word  she  said.  Besides,  since  my 
mamage,  I  had  about  made  up  my  mind  to  aban- 
don these  occult  or  spiritualistic  researches  alto- 
gether. 

"It  was  not  only  that  the  eflFect  on  my  younr 
wifes  nervous  system  was  bad,  and  the  resultj 
and  messages  obtained  mostly— as  they  nearlv 
always  are  with  triflers  and  beginneri-trivisd 
and  ridiculous ;  but  that  (especially  since  the  Rus- 
suui  directed  our  researches,) and  we  'progressed' 
—to  use  his  own  term,  we  sometimes  obtained 
aphorisms  of  smgular  wisdom  in  certain  of  the 
sentences  dictated  to  our  medium,  coming  often 
m  the  midst  of  the  most  trivial  nonsense     And 

«^?«V '  "^^  ^^^-  ^^'^^  °''  ^^'^^'^  indications  and 
signs  of  a  most  sinister  nature. 

♦u  "T^^y  seemed  tokens  and  warnings  that  amone 
the  inhabitants  of  the  unknown  countrTSitf 
which  we  were  advancing,  were  some  of  un- 
known and  great  power,  and  intense  malignity 

S'Ik  %^"'"J"  :^'^'  °"'y  ^^'^  •"  cl'eck  by  in- 
visible bands,  which  our  own  ranks  might  be  ie- 
norantly  engaged  in  loosening.  In  short,  I  wm 
seriously  determined  that  the  evil  of  our  exncri- 

-«"^"'^  Rostoffchin,  as  I  have  said,  was  in  hijrh 
sprits  on  that  fatal  night  when  his'  destiny  S 
hun.    He  said  one  thing  that  I  shall  always  re- 


The  Necklacs  op  Pandusa. 


109 


member  before  the  seance  began,  for  it  showed 
me  that  for  ends  of  his  own,  he  dehlwrately 
courted  the  dan^rs  he  called  up,  and  had  also 
some  idea  of  their  nature. 

"'We  shall  have  much  'force'  to-night,  my 
friend,'  he  said  abruptly,  'unless  I  am  much  at 
fault.  More  than  I  have  ever  lid,  even  in  St. 
Petersburgh,  even  in  Paris,  with  many  of  the 
most  gifted  present.  When  my  sister  goes  into 
the  trance,  I  will  take  control.  By  some  strange 
happ^  chance,  we  men  are  almost  all  'en  rapport,' 
that  IS,  our  minds  are  strongly  turned  in  the  same 
direction — are  all  'pulling  at  one  rope.'  You 
comprehend.  That  will  give  much  force.  We 
shall  not  have  such  another  chance  once  in  a 
thousand — in  a  hundred  thousand  meetings!  I 
have  been  reading  your  minds.  I  can  sometimes, 
when  there  is  a  strong  current  of  thought  similar 
to  that  in  my  own  mind;  and  what  do  I  see? 
Images — positive  pictures  of  primitive  violence- 
force — the  eternal  forces  that  have  existed  in  pre- 
historic and  savage  times,  and  which  might  be 
called  up  now — controlled — and  used!' 

'"What  for?'  asked  Hastings. 

"The  Russian  laughed  fiercely.  'Who  knows? 
Perhaps  to  help  a  people.  Perhaps  to  kill  a  ty- 
rant!' he  added  suddenly.  Better  than  the  knife 
or  revolver — ^better  than  dynamite!  Safer  and 
more  terror  striking.  Perhaps  we  can  use  them 
to  remove  mountains,  pierce  tunnels.  Bah!  we 
trifle.  Commen<;ons !  Still  he  paused  a  moment, 
seeming  to  ponder  again  heavily.  'But  there  is 
much  force,  he  resumed,  as  if  speaking  to  him- 
self— 'perhaps  too  much.    I  can  actually  see  here. 


. 


1; 


i! 


iio         Thb  Nbcxlacb  or  Pamduba. 

th««,  everywliert'--he  pointed  to  the  walh  to 
rif  ht  and  left  of  him— images  of  the  things  you 
have  been  thinking  of.  The  half  man,  half  brute 
fight  between  two  tribes  of  cave  men  (Hastings 
started).  The  horrible  tortures  and  mutilations 
of  those  semi-demons,  the  North  American  Red 
Indians.  (I  sterted  in  my  turn.)  Yes,  we  shall 
have  much  force.  Perhaps  too  much  I  There 
mav  be  danger.' 

'  'How  danger  r  I  asked.  He  seemed  in  a  curi- 
o««  ^nrood,  which  somehow  impressed  us  all. 

"'Because  thoughts— concentrated  thoughts- 
are  facts— the  only  real  facts.  Just  as  each  soul 
IS  a  concentrated  thought  of  a  Higher  Power, 
and  therefore  can  be  called  from  the  Abyss— ma- 
terialized, controlled,  used  oerhaps— we  shall  seel 
As  for  danger,  well,  mv  friends,  you  have  read 
m  medueval  legends  of  how  from  time  to  time 
sages  of  the  Alchemists  or  of  the  still  more  wis- 
dom-gifted 'BrotherhiDod  of  the  Rosy  Cross,'  the 
predecessors  of  the  Occultists  of  to-day,  were 
found  in  their  cells  torn  limb  from  limb  by  the 
fiends  they  had  invoked.  These  legends  were 
not  all  lies  (few  universally  believed  leger/is  of 
any  period  are).  These  wise  but  rash  men  iiiere- 
ly  encountered  forces— not  fiends— which  they 
could  not  control.  Voila  tout!  I  think  I  know 
something  of  the  nature  of  these  forces,  and  that 
thev  can  be  controlled.' 

'  'But  if  not,'  interrupted  Dr.  Cresswell,  speak- 
mg^  for  the  first  time. 

"  'If  not,"  answered  the  Russian,  shrugging  his 
shoulders,  they  may  be  a  little— troublesome  I 
Let  us  begin.' 


Tub  Nbcxlacb  op  Pahdoxa. 


tIE 


"  'We  will  have  the  dark  seance/  he  continued, 
as  we  entered  the  large  room  where  our  experi- 
ments were  usually  tried,  when  we  met  in  Mr. 
Adam's  house. 

"'We  want  no  child's  play  to-nig^ht  of  table 
rapping  and  that  little  rubbish,  and  we  know 
each  other  too  well  to  fear  in^sition  on  the 
part  of  an^  of  us.' 

"  'Why  IS  it,"  said  I,  as  we  made  our  prepara- 
tions, 'that  total  darkness  is  so  much  more  favor- 
able to  the  advanced  experiments  than  light?  It 
doesn't  look  well  for  their  origin,'  I  added,  jok- 
ing weakly. 

'  'Because,'  he  answered  seriously  enough,  'as 
a  well-known  writer  speaking  of  this  very  thing 
has  said,  'the  force  we  deal  with  is  a  vibration 
of  ether,  and  so  also  is  light.'  We  have  all  the 
wires  to  ourselves,  so  to  speak,  by  being  in  totol 
darkness.' 

"So  the  sitting  began  in  pitchy  darkness  in  a 
large  room  in  the  left  v/'m^  of  Mr.  Adams'  house, 
where  we  held  our  meetmgs  usually,  as  it  was 
more  quiet  there  than  in  the  apartments  in  the 
front  of  the  house.  We  sat  around  a  great  table, 
our  hands  not  touching  each  other,  but  resting 
upon  it.  At  first  we  could  see  nothing — scarcely 
even  each  other's  forms  in  the  darkness,  but  sat 
there  silent,  expectant,  waiting  for — a  sign. 

"There  was  'much  power,'  as  the  Russian  had 
said.  The  first  phenomena,  like  those  we  had 
noted  in  previous  meeungs,  such  as  strange  ting- 
lings  in  all  the  veins  and  nerves  like  those  pro- 
duced by  shocks  of  electricity,  bright  flashes  and 
gleams  of  light  before  the  eyes,  and  above  all,  a 


113 


The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 


1 


singular  strained  feeling  of  expectancy — a  com- 
pound of  curiosity,  and  deep-seated  fear,  of  a 
different  kind  from  ordinary  physical  fear,  were 
soon  apparent ;  but  in  a  stronger  degree  than  we 
had  ever  before  experienced. 

"Then  came  stronger  indications  of  'power'; 
stronger  shocks  ran  through  our  limbs ;  raps  and 
sharp  blows  volleyed  on  the  table  before  us,  rapid 
as  the  snapping  of  dry  twigs  in  a  fire,  and — what 
we  had  never  seen  before — k  luminous  cloud  ap- 
peared, growing  so  much  brighter  that  we  could 
faintly  distinguish  each  other's  faces  and  forms. 
It  rolled  in  folds  over  the  table,  gradually  seem- 
ing to  condense  and  draw  together,  getting 
brighter  as  it  did  so.  At  the  same  moment,  light 
regular  breathing  near  me  told  me  that  Vera 
RostoflFchin  had  already,  with  surprising  sw«' 
ness,  sank  into  the  magnetic  sleep. 

"The  light  grew — diffused — deepened.    Thi 
was  something  indescribably  baleful  and  threat- 
ening about  it. 

"The  Russian  spoke  for  the  first  time.  'It  is 
well,'  he  said.  'There  is  indeed  much  power !  We 
are  very  near  them  to-night!' 

Yes,  you  are  very  near  them!'  said  a  deep, 
calm  voice  among  us.    We  all  started. 

"'Who  was  that?  Did  you  speak,  Mademoi- 
selle Rostoffchin?'  said  Hastings  and  I  together. 

"  It  is  not  her  voice !'  said  my  wife  tremulous- 
ly- 

'Vera  Rostoffchin  is  safe  and  happy  far 
away,'  came  that  strange  voice  again.  'I  have 
taken  her  place  for  a  purpose.' 

'"  What  purpose  ?'  said  the  Russian. 


The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 


"3 


**  To  warn  you  all — ^and  you  most  of  all.  Go 
no  further!' 

'"And  who  are  you?'  demanded  Rostoffchin. 

"  'It  matters  nohinfif.  I  lived  as  you  all  live.  I 
died  as  you  a''  will  die !' 

"The  Russi  n  leaned  back  laughing  scornfully. 
'The  warning  again !'  he  s,  id. 

"But  we  o.r'^rs  cao;erl>  continued  to  ply  the 
'Presence'  (I  can  call  it  by  no  other  name)  with 
questions. 

"The  luminous  cloud  still  rolled  over  the  table, 
and  for  the  first  time  I  experienced,  as  did  the 
others,  a  strange  vibratory  movement  of  the 
room,  floor,  walls  and  ceiling,  like  the  first  para- 
lyzing tremor  of  an  earthquake ;  and  these  novel 
vibrations  were  not  confined  to  inanimate  objects, 
but  ran  through  every  nerve  and  fibre  of  our  own 
bodies  like  a  series  of  electric  waves.  It  was  stim- 
ulating to  a  great  extent,  but  terrifying,  too. 

"  'We  had  better  stop,  perhaps,'  said  Hastings. 

"  'Oh,  yes,  yes,'  echoed  my  wife  Clara,  eagerly. 
'I  seem  to  s-e  such  dreadful  things !' 

"  'Why  we  are  doing  no  harm,'  said  the  calm 
voice  of  Doctor  Cresswell.  (Here  the  Russian 
laughed.)  'We  are  simply  pursuing  lawful  sci- 
entific knowledge.  We  will  go  on.  But,  Mrs. 
Leslie,  this  is  bad  for  you.  The  excitement  has 
'got  on  your  nerves,'  and  it  won't  do  for  you  to 
try  them  any  more.  'Leslie,  take  her  away  to 
Mrs.  Ciesswell,  and  come  back  if  you  like.' 

"I  looked  at  Clara.  She  was  trembling  all 
over.  Her  dilated  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  lumin- 
ous cloud  as  if  she  saw  strange  things  there 
which  were  hidden  from  us.    I  saw  Dr.  Cress- 


"4 


Thb  Necklace  of  Panduka. 


d 


well  was  right  and  instantly  took  her  unresist- 
ingly from  the  room  to  where  Mrs.  Cresswell 
(who  did  not  approve  of  these  'scientific  investi- 
gations') was  sitting,  and  left  them  together. 

"I  have  been  thankful  ever  since  that  I  did  so ! 

"Then  Cresswell  spoke  again.  'You  say  you 
have  taken  the  place  of  Vera  RostoflFchin,  the 
medium.    Where  is  she?' 

"  'In  another  place  and  happy.' 

"  'Will  she  remember  anything  of  it  when  she 
returns  ?' 

"  'Yes,  but  confusedly,  as  people  remember 
dreams,  or  some  persons  on  earth  remember  inci- 
dents of  past  lives.' 

"  'We  have  lived  before  then?' 

"  'Of  course.' 

"'And  will  live  again?' 

*'  'Of  course.' 

"  'And  will  the  end  for  us  be  happiness  at  last?' 

"  'I  cannot  tell  you.'  , 

"  'Then  you  dejul  do  not  know  the  future.' 

"  'More  of  it  tiian  you  do ;  but  we  have  our 
limitations,  ignorance ,  and  troubles  just  as  you 
have.  Our  knowledge  is  greater,  and  our  pow- 
ers greater  than  yours,  but  still  limited.'  ' 

"Are  you  happy?*  ' 

"  'Yes,  for  I  strive  to  do  good  and  have  much 
more  power  than  on  earth.  I  have  come  to  try 
and  do  good  now.    To  warn  you.' 

"'Of  what?' 

"  'Of  awakening  evil  forces.' 

"  'We  wish  to  do  no  such  thing.' 

"  'You  do  not;  but  the  strongest  one  among 
you  does,' 


The  Necklace  of  Panduia. 


115 


***WT'at  do  you  mean  by  evil  forces?* 

"'Uncontrolled  forces.  Dangerous  forces. 
Some  of  them  are  evil  thoughts  materialized.' 

"  'Can  you  not  tell  us  more  of  them?' 

"  *I  know  no  more.' 

"Here  the  Russian  spoke  impatiently.  'This 
leads  to  nothing !  We  are  losing  a  great  oppor- 
tunity to  acquire  knowledge  by  wasting  precious 
time  in  parleying  with  a  feeble  and  igaorant 
spirit — ^a  spirit  from  one  of  the  lower  planes.  Let 
me  assume  control.' 

'"One  more  question!'  said  the  Doctor  and 
Hastings  together.    'Are  all  spirits  like  you  iiap- 

"  'Very  happy.  We  have  enlarged  spheres  of 
knowledge,  and  sometimes  large  opportunities 
of  doing  good.' 

"  'Then  you  know  now  more  of  the  source  of 
all  good?' 
"  'We  kaow  little  more  than  you  do.' 
"  'Have  you  then  religions  like  ours  ?' 
"  'No.    The  good  hope  and  trust ;  the  bad  dis- 
trust and  despair.     But  I  can  answer  no  more 
curious  ap-'       ile  questions.    I  came  to  do  you 
good — to  ^  5u,  as  I  said.    You  are  all  here 

to-night  in  1  .isitive  and  daring  moods.  By 
chance  your  minds  have  been  filled  with  images 
of  violence  and  primitive  savagery.  These  images 
— these  imaginings — under  certain  conditions 
can  be  materialized,  and  there  is  a  strong,  daring 
influence  among  you  who  ijieans  to  do  this,  if  it 
can  be  done.    Beware  of  the  result!' 

"  'Bah,  but  this  is  absurd  I'  here  broke  in  the 
Russian.    ''^"    '  Anglo-Saxons  think  of  nothing 


ii6 


The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 


but  what  you  call  religion!  Good  things— evil 
things — all  phantasms!  Every  savant — every 
educated  man  knows  that  there  is  no  good  and 
no  evil — only  circumstances,  knowledge  and  will. 
Finish  quickly,  ?.nd  then  I  will  show  you  a  great 
—a  real— experiment,  which  may  teach  us  some- 
thing—which may  give  us  a  power— a  mighty 
power.  Bui  see,  you  can  ask  no  more !  The  in- 
fluence has  departed.    Try !' 

"It  was  as  he  had  said.  Question  after  ques- 
tion was  only  answered  by  the  regular  breathing 
of  the  medium  in  her  magnetic  sleep.  The 
strange,  ghastly,  luminous  cloud  still  swirled  over 
the  table,  and  the  feeling  of  dread,  which  had 
quite  gone  from  all  of  us  while  speaking  with 
the  last  influence,  returned  suddenly — and  with 
redoubled  force. 

"The  Russian  spoke  again.  'You  will  let  me 
try  nov;  >'  he  said.  As  he  looked  round  at  us  his 
face,  seen  in  that  strange  illumination,  wore  an 
expression  of  wrought  up  resolve  and  desperate 
concentration  of  will,  as  if  against  some  strong 
adversary  which  he  yet  hoped  to  overcome.  We 
all  assented.  'I  will  show  you  something  worth 
while  then,'  he  said,  'something  that  will  lead  to 
results  that  may  give  us  new  and  great  forces  to 
employ  in  the  world;  or  that  ma>  destroy  us 
every  one— who  knows  ?  At  any  rate  the  risk  is 
no  greater  than  those  run  every  day  by  explor- 
ers, travellers  and  investigators,  and  the  results 
and  rewards — how  infinitely  greater!  Com- 
meuQons !' 

"We  knew  not  what  those  strange  and  arrogant 
words  meant  then,  but  we  have  since  been  cer- 


The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 


117 


tain  that  the  ill-fated  Russian  savant  had  obtained 
some  insight  into  the  means  by  which  the  terrible 
power  of  materializing  thoughts  (a  thing  which 
can  be  done,  and  which  has  been  done)  could  be 
effected. 

"To  some  extent  he  succeeded,  but  by  the  un- 
happy sequence  of  events  which  I  have  en^.eav- 
ored  to  trace,  the  terrible  forces  called  up  by  him 
proved  beyond  his  control. 

"  'May  I  ask  you  to  sit  still,  and  not  to  move, 
whatever  happens — or  get  frightened — if  you  can 
help  it,'  he  said.  That  might  be  dangerous.  This 
is  serious,'  he  added,  sitting  down. 

"We  all  sat  silent  in  the  darkness  with  our 
hands  on  the  table  waiting.  We  had  not  long  to 
wait.  Again  the  shiver  came  that  passed  through 
nerve  and  bone.  Again  came  the  strange  tremor 
like  that  of  a  slight  passing  earthquake,  and  at 
the  same  time  an  overwhelming  wave  of  what  I 
can  only  call  sheer  physical  terror  was  felt  by  all 
of  us. 

"The  luminous  cloud  rolled  off  the  table,  and 
wavered  across  the  room,  and  there  condensed, 
and  rapidly  changed  form  an''  color.  It  grew 
brighter,  deeper  red  every  moment,  and  seemed, 
too,  every  moment  to  contract — to  concentrate-— 
to  materialize,  in  short. 

"Rapidly  the  ominous  cloud  condensed — grew 
dark  red — then  darker  still — assuming  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  misshapen,  gigantic,  but  yet  hu- 
man-like form.  It  was  almost  pitch  dark  in  the 
room  now,  the  ghastly  light  having  vanished,  but 
still  we  could  see  amidst  the  darkness  the  darker 
shape    of    that    strange    nameless    thing    as    it 


Ii8 


The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 


crouched  in  a  comer — ^and  the  green  glare  of  a 
pair  of  demon-like  rolling  eyes. 

"Rostoffchin  stood  up  erect — calm  and  strong. 
What  he  meant  I  do  not  know,  but  these  were  tiie 
words  he  spoke : 

"'?;irit  of  murder!  Spirit  and  inspirer  of 
primitive  force  and  violence,  you  must  obey  my 
will !' 

"For  the  moment  he  succeeded.  The  dimly 
seen  hideous  appearance  seemed  to  bend  and 
cower  as  before  a  master,  and  to  slowly  approach. 

"All  at  once  his  sister,  our  medium,  Vera 
Rostoffchin,  rose  slowly  to  her  feet,  and  gazed 
with  dilated  eyes  at  that  hideous  thing  which 
came  slowly  creeping  out  of  the  darkness.  Then 
so  startling — so  agonized  a  shriek  sprung  from 
her  white  lips  that  our  hearts  stood  still.  That 
shriek  broke  the  spell  laid  on  the  appearance,  and 
I  believe,  caused  what  happened. 

"That  unhappy  moment  and  cry  of  his  sister 
broke  the  concentrated  force  of  his  will,  which 
controlled  the  thing  which  he  had  called  up,  by 
distracting  for  a  moment  his  attention — and  this 
cost  him  his  life.    He  sprang  towards  his  sister. 

"Instantly  the  huge  form,  as  if  released  from  a 
chain,  rushed  at  us  in  the  dark. 

"All  that  I  have  ever  known  of  terror  before 
was  as  nothing  to  the  nightmare-like  horror  of 
the  next  few  moments.  The  great  table  was 
smashed  to  kindling  wood,  furniture  was  hurled 
about  like  leaves,  and  a  horrible  jabbering  sound 
like  that  made  by  an  infuriated  ape  came  from 
the  dark  comer  where  a  desperate  struggle  was 
evidently  proceeding. 


1$ 


The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 


119 


"I  remember  raising  the  insensible  form  of 
Vera  Rostoffchin  and  endeavoring  to  carry  her 
off  from  the  dreadful  room  by  the  great  door  at 
the  end  of  it  which  led  by  a  corridor  to  Mrs. 
Cresswell's  apartments, 

"As  I  endeavored  to  open  the  door,  there  was  a 
horrible  choking  cry  ii  the  dark  behind  and  a 
sound  like  the  snapping  of  dry  sticks.  Then 
something  black  and  huge  rushed  out  of  the 
blackness  and  an  immense  hand  attached  to  a 
tremendously  muscular  arm  of  abnormal  length, 
covered  with  coarse  matted  hair,  gripped  me  like 
a  vice.    Such  strength  I  had  never  felt. 

"I  struggled  a  moment  in  fierce  despair,  then 
a  heavy  Indian  club,  snatched  by  Robert  Hast- 
ings from  one  of  the  trophies  that  adorned  the 
walls,  fell  crushingly  on  that  clutching  hand ;  and 
the  thing  with  a  bellow,  released  me,  and  started 
back.  I  carried  Vera  through  the  door,  followed 
swiftly  by  Hastings  and  Dr.  Cresswell,  and  we 
hurriedly  barred  the  door  behind  us,  thinking  in 
our  confusion  that  Rostoffchin  was  with  us.  We 
bore  the  girl  up  the  dimly  lighted  corridor  to 
the  rooms  where  Mrs.  Cresswell,  my  wife  and 
some  of  the  affrighted  servants  rushed  to  meet 


us. 
« 


We  laid  her  gently  down  on  a  lounge,  and  Dr. 
Cresswell  bent  over  her.  'Gk)od  Heavens,  she  is 
dead!'  he  gasped  instantly. 

"  'Impossible !'  'Are  you  sure  ?'  'Nonsense !  Do 
something,  man !'  came  from  all  sides. 

"  'Nothing  can  be  done,'  he  said,  looking  up 
from  where  he  knelt  beside  her.  'She  is  quite 
dead.    Dead  from  heart  failure.    She  died  in  that 


! 


120 


The  Necklace  of  Panduka.  " 


room  (he  pointed  back)  from  an  attack  of  heart 
failure  caused  by  excitement — and  fear  I' 

"Fear !  I  could  well  believe  it.  In  the  beauti- 
ful dilated  eyes  and  frozen  on  the  delicate  perfect 
features  was  an  expression  that  it  broke  my  heart 
to  see — the  unmistakable  stamp  of  dread,  intense, 
h  >peless  fear !  What  was  it  that  she  saw  with 
her  clearer  spiritual  vision  which  could  thus  para- 
lyze and  stop  that  dauntless  heart !  Heaven  only 
knows ! 

"  'Rostoffchin  I  Where's  Rostoffchin?  Call  him ! 
Where  is  he?  Heavens,  he's  nowhere  here  I  He 
must  be  still  in  that  room!'  Thus  calling,  we 
rushed  back  down  the  corridor,  ready  (to  do  us 
all  justice)  to  face  the  horror  of  that  dark  cham- 
ber without  hesitation,  now  that  we  realized  that 
he  was  there.  As  we  approached  the  door,  there 
was  not  a  sound.  Instead  of  the  trampling, 
smashing  and  roaring  that  had  rung  in  our  ears 
a  few  moments  ago,  there  was  a  silence  in  that 
room  'which  might  have  been  felt.* 

"  The  power'  has  passed  away.  The  influence 
— whatever  it  was — that  brought  about  these 
things,  has  ended,'  whispered  Dr.  Cresswell. 
'We  will  find  nothing  of  the  thing  he  material- 
ized in  here.' 

"We  opened  the  door  of  the  room,  and  went 
in,  holding  our  lamps  above  our  heads. 

"He  was  sitting  in  a  strange  contorted  atti- 
tude in  the  great  arm  chair  at  the  top  of  the  table, 
his  head  fallen  singularly  and  limply  on  one 
shoulder.  The  hands  were  clinched,  and  the 
whole  attitude  of  the  limbs  betokened  that  the 
man  had  been  thrust  back  into  the  position  in 
which  we  found  him  by  some  gigantic  force.  But 


The  Necklace  of  Pandura. 


121 


when  we  raised  the  head,  and  saw  the  face,  there 
was  the  ghastly  horror  f 

"I  once  saw  the  corpse  of  a  man  in  Madrid 
who  had  suffered  death  by  that  hideous  Spanish 
instrument  of  execution — 'the  garrotte.'  This 
machine,  by  means  of  an  iron  ring  or  collar  round 
the  neck,  tightened  by  turning  a  screw  behind, 
crushes  to  atoms  the  vertebrae  of  the  neck.  The 
iHce  of  the  executed  man,  with  its  starting  eyes 
and  blood  streaming  nostril,  was  exactly  similar 
to  the  one  before  us — and  with  good  reason.  The 
neck  of  our  ill-fated  friend  had  been  literally 
twisted  round,  the  vertebrae  crushed  and  dislo- 
cated by  the  clutch  of  some  gigantic  hand. 

"Well,  of  course,  there  was  an  inquiry — some 
sensation — some  discussion — soon  desisted  from 
somehow  (my  friends  were  men  of  great  influ- 
ence, social  and  political),  during  which  various 
theories  were  suggested — all  wrong  ones. 

"There  is  in  my  opinion  only  one  solution  to 
this  grim  mystery.  Poor  Rostoflfchin,  whether 
accidentally  or  by  design  (but  I  think  the  latter) 
had  managed  for  a  time  to  materialize  some  form 
of  those  primitive  beings — ^half  beast,  half  man, 
who  lived  in  this  earth  long  ago — in  the  horrible 
times  before  all  history;  or,  perhaps — I  don't 
know — even  something  worse.  The  feat  cost  him 
his  life,  as  well  as  that  of  his  beautiful  and  gifted 
sister. 

"At  any  rate,  you  know  why  I  have  given  up 
theosophy  and  occultism.  I  admit  the  fascina- 
tion of  these  cults,  but  after  what  I  have  seen,  I 
have  no  desire  while  investigating  their  wonder- 
ful secrets,  to  come  during  some  unguarded  mo- 
ment in  contact  again  with  some  of  their  'Ua- 
known  Forces.' " 


i|i 


■andsUilWiiM 


-i- 


I 


'It 


Sam  S.  &  Lee  Shubert 

direct  the  following  theatres  and  theatrical 
attractions  in  America : 


Hippodrome,  Lyric.  Casino, 
Dalyt,  Lew  Fields.  Herald 
Sqnare  and  Princess  Thea- 
tre*, New  York. 

Garrick  Theatre,  Chicago. 

Lyric  Theatre,  Philadelphia. 

Shobert  Theatre,  Brooklyn. 

Belr.sco  Theatre,  Washing- 
ton. 

Belasco  Theatre,  Pittsburg. 

Shubert  Theatre,  Newark. 

Shubert  Theatre,  Utica. 

Grand  Opera  House,  Syra- 
cuse. 

Baker  Theatre,  Rochester. 

Opera  House,  Providence. 

Worcester  Theatre,  Worces- 
ter. 

Hyperion  Theatre,  New 
Haven. 

Lyceum  Theatre,  Buffalo. 

Colonial  Theatre,  Cleveland. 

Rand's  Opera  House,  Troy. 

Garrick  Theatre,  St.  Louis. 

Sam  S.  Shubert  Theatre, 
Norfolk,  Va. 

Shubert  Theatre,  Columbus. 

Lyric,  Cincinnati. 


Mary     Anderaon     Theatre, 
Louisville. 

New    Theatre,     Richmond, 
Va. 

New  Theatre,  Lexington,  Kj. 

New  Theatre,  Mobile. 

New  Theatre,  Atlanta. 

Shubert    Theatre,    Milwau- 
kee. 

Lyric  Theatre,  New  Orleans. 

New       Marlowe      Theatre, 
Chattanooga. 

New  Theatre,  Detroit. 

Grand    Opera    House,    Dav- 
enport, Iowa. 

New  Theatre,  Toronto. 

New  Sotheni  Theatre,  Den- 
ver. 

Sam    S.     Shubert    Theatre, 
Kansas  City. 

Majestic  Theatre,    Los  An- 
geles. 

Belasco  Theatre,  Portland. 

Shubert  Theatre,  Seattle. 

Majestic  Theatre,  San  Fran- 
cisco. 

E.  H.  Sothem  &  Julia  Mar- 
lowe in  repertoire. 


^ 


i 


Mjjjjwt  Anglia  and  Htary      •  Shot*  Actm.** 

Mary  Muincriag  in  "Olori-     ..-.     «     . 
Maw.  AlU  NatimoT*. 


TliicM.   W.    Rom  in    "The 
OUwr  Girl." 

Ccctlia  hottxu. 

Clus  Bloodgood. 

Blnneht  Ring. 

Alcsandcr  Can. 

Digbj  Bell. 

"The     Girl     Behind     the 
Counter." 

"The  Ught  Eternal.' 

"The  Snow  Man." 


HcnnrWoodraffin  "Brown 
of  Harrard." 

'*The  SaereC  Orchard,"  by 
Channing  Pollock. 

De  Wolf  Homer  in  "  Hap* 
pyland."  *^ 

Bddie  Poy  in  "  The  Orchid." 

Magpierite  aark,  in  a  new 
opera. 

"The  Social  Whirl,"  with 
Chas.  J.  Ron. 

James  T.  Power*  in  "The 
Blue  Moon." 


Blanche  Bates  in  "  The  Girl  Bertha  Kallch 

from  the  Golden  West."  ^^  ^  J'    „ 

DaTid    Warfield    in    "The       ^^^  ^*^^'" 

MuiicMarter."  ..xhe  Man  on  the  Box." 

"  The  Rose  of  the  Rancho," 

with  Rose  Starr.  Cyril  Scott  in  "  The  Prince 

Harrison    Gray   Furl's        Chap." 

ATTRACTIONS.  „  .,       _,         ,   .    ^ 

Mrs.  Fiske  in  "The   New        «»•  Temple's  Telegram." 


York  Idea. 


"The  Three  of  Us." 


You  cannot  go  wrong  in  selecting  one  of 
these  play-houses  for  an  evening's  entertain- 
ment in  whatever  city  you  may  happen  to  be. 


II 


.1-.  ; 


^1 


